


A Fine Line Between Us

by MrsCriss2012



Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Klaine, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 82,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24055603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsCriss2012/pseuds/MrsCriss2012
Summary: Kurt Hummel is a struggling actor hoping for his big break, while Blaine Anderson is a jaded, hard-headed theatre critic. It's a fine line between love and hate.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 148
Kudos: 256





	1. 1

Review: Kings and Noblemen at the Black Box Theater.

Though some may scoff, it is often possible to find some real gems among the off-off Broadway theatres. Let’s not forget that this is where the Tony award winning ‘Brothers Nemesis’ started, and ‘Egyptian Robots’ which, though not to everyone’s tastes, has still gone on to have a decent West End run in England. Big name stars often start their career here, which is why I like to take a look every now and then, and see if I can spot any raw talent. 

‘Kings and Noblemen’ was an intriguing prospect to me; the entire cast is made up of new drama school graduates with not a credit to their name. While a slight concern, I was also interested to see whether being so fresh out of school would result in a slick, strong performance as each actor strives to be noticed by casting agents. 

It didn’t. 

The plot is bizarre; King John, ruler of England in some period of history that is never actually determined, is intent on finding a wife. So are all of his noblemen and, it would seem that the entire play focuses on each of the noble court members one by one stealing King John’s lovers away from him until the King finally notices the servant girl who’s been eyeing him the entire time, and realizes she’s the girl of his dreams. That’s it, that’s the show. I wish I was joking, or I could say there was more to it, but there is not. It really is as linear and monotonous as that. 

The songs are enjoyable enough in their melodies but since we are so bored by the plot after the first few minutes, it’s hard to even recall if the lyrics were decent. This being the Black Box, the set is minimal, which is just as well since given the poor quality of costumes, it is evident this production is on a shoestring budget. 

The actors seem to alternate between being obnoxiously overbearing and cheerful, or entirely unsure of what they’re supposed to be doing. The direction is weak, pointless, and seemingly non-existent between some of those on stage, in particular Kurt Hummel. 

I was astounded to learn from the playbill that Mr. Hummel has recently graduated from Pace, because it’s surely some kind of miracle that he ever got cast in this. One can almost see the green arrogance in his face as he dances across the stage with a wide grin on his face, clearly assuming his dimples and blue eyes will carry him through. I finally reached my limit when he had to be fed his line from another actor on stage. 

Far from Kings and Noblemen (and cast) being the undiscovered gem I had hoped, I found myself wishing it would come to an end as soon as possible. I wish that the writer and director, Marcia Curtis, would credit her audience with a little more intelligence and next time, aim for a script that holds a little more depth. The sooner she, and the cast (especially Hummel) wake up to the real world, the better. Love does not make the world go round, and audiences are tired of seeing the same old tale of true love with a happily ever after that really doesn’t exist for anyone in real life. 

Blaine Anderson.

“Unfuckingbelievable!” Kurt Hummel throws the newspaper down on the kitchen table, making his roommates, Anna and Meredith, look up from their breakfast in surprise. “Read it!” he snaps, heading over to get coffee. “Just read it!” 

Picking up the paper fearfully, Anna reads it before handing it over to Meredith, who shakes her head. “I got nothing,” she says when Kurt sits opposite. 

“It’s one bad review,” Anna says a little more diplomatically. “Just ignore it. Focus on the good ones.”

“But it’s my first review,” Kurt moans, holding his head in his hands. “And I wanted it to be good. I wanted them to like me. There aren’t any others. Not yet, anyway. I guess some more might come out online later today.” 

“Most likely,” Anna says kindly. “And this guy... Blaine Anderson... He’s just some dumb hack, Kurt, that’s all.” 

Kurt lifts his head, staring at her. “He’s the theatre critic for the New York News. He’s not just some hack. He’s the first person of note who’s ever written a review of one of my shows, and he hates me.”

“To be fair, he doesn’t just hate you,” Meredith says. “He hates the entire production.”

“But he named me! He didn’t name anyone else in the cast! Out of everyone, he named me, and said that I should never have been cast.” 

“He said it’s a miracle how you ever got cast,” Meredith corrects. 

“Same fucking difference,” Kurt snaps. He stands, snatching the newspaper from her hands. “I’m going back to bed.” 

Kurt is right; there are more reviews and though they’re not exactly positive, at least none of the others criticize his performance specifically, rather the show in its entirety. He can’t get the New York News review out of his head though, despite Anna repeatedly telling him that it mustn’t get him down. 

All he’s ever wanted, his whole life through, is to perform. He had been striving for his dream since his dad first enrolled him in dance classes, aged eight. He’d pleaded and begged, and he knew it took a lot of courage for his dad to march into the only dance school in their tiny Wisconsin hometown, and announce that he’d like his son to join. He’d been determined not to let his dad down from that moment on, and he hadn’t. 

Kurt had worked hard at school, and right from graduating he moved to New York, to take up a scholarship at Pace. He’d perfected his craft, studying acting and musical theatre while working as many hours as possible in a small coffee shop, in order to help keep costs down for his dad. 

After graduation, Kurt had dreamed of finding the perfect role on Broadway, getting his own apartment, maybe even being able to afford to take a cab sometimes instead of the subway, but those dreams were still distant, at best. 

Money was tight, and he stayed rooming with his college roommates Anna and Meredith, who were his best friends even though they could be incredibly argumentative and temperamental, and while looking for acting work he also worked as many hours as possible in a coffee shop two blocks off Broadway.

Then the audition for Kings and Noblemen had come up. A new dramatic musical, he decided he had nothing to lose. To his surprise, he’d got it. Okay, the pay was barely legal, and it was off-off Broadway in a tiny box theatre, but as his dad said; “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.” 

Kurt was overjoyed, and though his instinct told him the show perhaps wasn’t all that great, he felt like he had at least turned in an accomplished performance, and he was sure that would be picked up on in the reviews. It wasn’t, though, and worse than being ignored was the pointed criticism from Blaine Anderson.

Still frustrated and angry three days later, Kurt looks up Blaine Anderson online. Far from being a dumb hack, as Anna had said, Kurt discovers he has a detailed history as a theatre and arts critic for the New York Stage Review, The London Post, in Britain, and also for a Parisian art journal, before a short spell in Los Angeles and now here, in New York City. 

“Fuck you,” Kurt mutters angrily at his screen. “Track record means nothing. Even the best of us get it wrong, sometimes.” 

But Blaine Anderson is not wrong. Kings and Noblemen closes after just eleven performances, and Kurt Hummel is unemployed. 

It’s three months before he finds another role. This time, it’s in the chorus in a 1920’s musical, in which Meredith has the lead. He hates that it was her who landed him the part, but he’s flat broke and with Christmas just a month away, he knows he needs to take whatever work he can get. 

The show is an altogether more enjoyable experience. He makes a lot of new friends in the chorus, and he enjoys rehearsals. His dad comments on how happy and upbeat he sounds when he calls, and he quickly agrees. 

“I know it’s only chorus,” he tells him “But the show is already gaining more attention than Kings and Noblemen did, and I only need one casting director to be in that audience, to spot me...”

“Absolutely! And even if they don’t this time, having a show like this on your resume has gotta be good, right?”

“It has,” Kurt agrees. “And I’m going to make the best of it.” 

Opening night arrives and despite not having any solo lines, Kurt’s nerves are at their peak. He stares at himself in his dressing room mirror, which he shares with three others. His bright blue eyes shine, adrenaline already coursing through him as he listens to the faint strains of the orchestra tuning up. He checks his chestnut hair in the mirror, even though it’s got so much hairspray on that it will never move and then, finally, he takes a mouthful of water and steps out into the corridor for some air. 

“Hey baby cheeks.” 

“Don’t call me that.” He turns to see Meredith coming toward him, poured into an enormous dress with a fierce looking corseted bodice. “Good God. A Latina Southern Belle with a viper's tongue.” 

“Hey, I was going to be nice,” she says, her dark eyes flashing in anger. “Break a leg and all that. Are you feeling okay?” 

“I guess,” Kurt says lightly.

“You sure? This theatre is a lot bigger than your previous one.”

“I’ll survive. You break a leg too,” he says begrudgingly. 

“Thank you.” She saunters past on her way to the wings, and blows a kiss over her shoulder. “By the way, apparently Blaine Anderson is in the audience.” 

Kurt is woken the next morning by an ungodly scream and he bolts from bed, storming out into the living room of his tiny apartment. “Meredith!” he yells. “I swear to God...”

“You stole my review!” she shrieks, and Kurt blinks for a moment, taking in the sight of her bundled up in her coat, hat and scarf. “I dragged my ass out of bed to get the first editions and you stole my fucking review!” 

“What are you talking about?” Anna asks, and Meredith’s only response is to throw the newspaper at her. She picks it up and scans it, clapping a hand over her mouth halfway through.

“What?” Kurt asks, his blood running cold. “What is it?” 

“It’s uh... You know what? It’s nothing,” Anna says. She laughs nervously as she backs him toward the bedroom. “You want coffee? I’ll make some.”

“Show me that newspaper,” he says, his voice low. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yes it’s him!” Meredith shrieks. “And I don’t know what his beef is with you, but you’ve seriously pissed him off.”

“What? I’ve never met the guy!”

“I didn’t say you had, but clearly your terrible acting riles him enough that he feels the need to waste a review passing comment on a member of the chorus instead of me, the actual lead!” 

Kurt reaches out, grabbing the newspaper from Anna’s hand. He sits on their old, worn couch, his eyes going wide as he reads. “Chorus member Kurt Hummel proves to be a complete distraction while on stage, and not in a good way. He is a constant half beat behind his counterparts, and at times it looked as though he was in a different show altogether. Mr Hummel is still green in his career and it shows; the sooner he realizes that cute dimples and baby blues don’t hide his lack of talent, the better.’” 

There is a resounding silence in the apartment, while Kurt stares again at the words on the page. Anna quietly moves to sit next to him, and even Meredith rests a hand on his shoulder. 

“How can someone hate me so much?” he asks in a whisper. “What have I done? Am I really that horrible an actor?”

“No.” 

Kurt and Anna look up in surprise at Meredith, who firmly shakes her head. “You’re not,” she adds. “You won a scholarship to Pace, for goodness sake. This dick seems to have some issue with you, but that’s his problem, not yours.”

“I agree,” Anna chimes in. “I’ll bet this review will be just like last time; none of the others will mention you by name, and he’ll be the one who ends up looking stupid because it’s obvious he has some axe to grind.” 

She is right, of course. Reviews are fair, and Meredith comes in for some particular praise, but no one else thinks to mention any of the chorus, or even the supporting roles, by name. However, the cast read all the reviews, as always, and though Kurt thinks their teasing is only meant as a bit of fun, it still stings, and leaves him hurting for days. 

The show ends its run right before Christmas, and Kurt boards a flight on Christmas Eve which takes him back to Wisconsin, and back to the loving arms of his dad. He tells his dad everything, surprised to realize as he speaks that his anger and despair is still very much present. 

“It’s so frustrating!” he cries, and his dad frowns, sliding another beer across the kitchen counter to him. 

“Why? You ever met the guy?”

“No. I’ve never even seen him. Wouldn’t know him if I walked past him on the street.” 

“So you don’t know what he’s like, so what does his opinion matter? He’s a stranger, right? It’s not like you know he’s really knowledgeable or whatever.” 

“He’s got a long history as a distinguished theatre critic.”

“Really? Then why’s he reviewing small shows off-off Broadway?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt admits. “I took a look at other stuff he's written though, and he does all the top shows too. I guess doing the smaller, more quirky shows gives him an edge? I don't know.”

“Guy sounds like a total jerk,” Burt Hummel grumbles. He reaches out, ruffling his son’s hair. “Don’t let the bastards grind you down, kid.”

Kurt tries to heed his dad’s advice, but Blaine Anderson’s words seem to resound in his mind as he returns to New York and once again begins attending any and every audition that he can. He fails to land a single part, and eventually he returns to the coffee shop, desperately hoping they need a barista. 

“Actually, we do,” Karl, the manager tells him. “Right now, if you're free?” 

“I can... Yeah, okay,” he says with a laugh. “Sure. Thanks for having me back.” 

“Welcome. Really, you've saved my skin today.” 

Kurt falls back into the old routine quickly, and it's a good thing too, since the coffee shop is suddenly swarmed when heavy rain starts to fall. He keeps up with all the orders though, working the register and calling out names simultaneously. Handing over three coffees to a woman, he gives a massive sigh of relief to see that's the end of the line, only then the door opens and a man enters, shaking the rain from his hair. 

“Coffee,” he barks. “Medium drip.” 

Kurt stares, and the man stares back. He's devastatingly handsome, with a shadow of dark stubble and deep brown eyes. His hair is wavy, with hints of silver at his temples and flecked through his black curls, and Kurt can instantly tell he’s incredibly wealthy. It's not just apparent from his clothes; a sharp gray suit and dark overcoat, but from the way he carries himself too. 

“Coffee,” he says again, frowning in annoyance. “Sometime today.” 

“Okay, okay.” Kurt comes to life, embarrassed at having been caught checking him out. “Is it raining?” he asks, unable to resist. But the customer doesn’t find his little joke funny. Instead, he glares, and then rolls his eyes when Kurt laughs to himself. 

“Hilarious.”

“I thought so.”

The man grabs his coffee and throws the money on the counter, before taking a seat in the window. He unfolds a newspaper, blocking everything else out, and Kurt carries on with his work, clearing the mass of dirty tables now that the line has gone. 

In the middle of wiping one table down, he stops and looks up sharply. Realizing he’s not imagining things, his eyes widen in surprise to see the man- his face still hidden behind the newspaper- snapping his fingers at him. 

“Sugar,” he barks, and Kurt wipes down the table he’s cleaning before picking up the tray. 

“Get it yourself. I don’t respond to finger snaps.” 

The newspaper is lowered, and the man raises one eyebrow. “Rather rude for a barista, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes of course, I’m just a barista. Not a person, with feelings. Silly me.” Kurt grabs some packets of splenda, just to piss him off, and throws them on the table. He heads out back for a moment, just to calm his breathing, but then he returns to clearing the tables again, determined not to let this arrogant man win. 

Kurt knows he’s watching him as he works, and he bites his lip hard, keeping his head held high. He might not be as sophisticated, or rich, but at least he knows he’s also not as rude, or angry. 

“You look familiar,” the man says as he passes. “Are you...”

“Trust me, I’d know if we’d met,” Kurt snaps before heading over to the furthest corner of the shop to clear the tables there, instead. 

To his surprise, the man follows him, standing awkwardly waiting for Kurt to look up which, after wiping the same table down four times, he has to do. “What?”

“I uh... I shouldn’t have snapped my fingers at you,” he says, looking at the floor. “I’ve had a bad day and I took it out on you. I apologize.” 

“Yeah? Well I’ve had a bad life, mister, so think before you speak next time. Other people might be fighting battles that you know nothing about.” 

“And so might I,” the man says, and gives a smile; but it’s a sad smile, and it makes Kurt check his temper just for a moment. 

“Apology accepted,” he mumbles, feeling the heat in his cheeks. 

“Thank you.” 

He leaves, and Kurt is left wondering how he can feel so guilty when it was the man who was rude to him, initially, and not the other way around. His guilt turns to anger, though, when he clears his table, and finds a fifty dollar bill set on the edge of his saucer. It’s an incredibly generous tip for one cup of coffee, and it should make Kurt overjoyed, but it doesn’t. He almost feels like the arrogant customer is watching him, laughing at his desperation as he quickly folds the bill and places it in the pocket of his apron. 

“Broadway better start calling my name soon, I swear.”


	2. Chapter 2

Two Months Later

Kurt emerges from the theatre, squinting into the bright sunlight, and runs as fast as he can. The subway out to Mapleton seems to take forever, but then he's bursting out of the station and taking the last few blocks to his building as quickly as he can. 

“Off-Broadway!” he yells, throwing open the door. 

Anna and Meredith lie on the apartment floor, locked in an intense game of checkers, but they both look up quickly. “What?!” 

“Stirred not Shaken, that musical I was telling you about? I got it! It’s gonna play off-Broadway!”

The girls are on their feet in an instant, shrieking their delight and even Meredith, who can often be temperamental, kisses him and hugs him close, genuinely happy for her friend. “What part?”

“Only a supporting role,” Kurt says, blushing slightly. “But I do have lines. I play one of the British spies trying to take out the Russians.”

“But that’s still so excellent!” Anna cries, and Meredith quickly agrees. 

“Off-Broadway is still huge! It’s the closest any of us have gotten to that star role. Screw Blaine Anderson and his crappy opinion; you clearly have talent or they wouldn’t have cast you, right?”

“There were a lot of us,” Kurt says, his confidence soaring. “Yeah.”

“This is the best stepping stone in the history of stepping stones,” Anna says, kissing his cheek again. “You are going to take the world by storm.” 

From there, Kurt continues to thrive. The rehearsal period for the musical is longer than his previous shows, meaning he can keep his job at the coffee shop, and he finds that the income from three shifts a week, combined with his wages from the show, mean that he can afford some new clothes and a sharp new haircut with blond streaks.

The rude customer he had served all those months ago returns twice; Kurt guesses the shop must be on his route home, but each time, Kurt finds some reason to disappear out back and leave Karl to work the counter. The customer gets his coffee to go, probably to avoid having to leave a fifty dollar tip to cover his rudeness. 

The night Stirred not Shaken opens in mid-May, Kurt feels a thrill like he’s never felt before. His dad, Anna, Meredith and her parents are all in the audience to support him and Blaine Anderson never even crosses his mind. He knows he gives the best performance of his career so far. He knows this, not only from the roar of approval from the crowd, but from his director, who seeks him out specifically to tell him how pleased he was with his efforts. 

After the show, he heads out for dinner with his dad and they talk over each other a mile a minute; both too excited to wait for the other to finish. 

“Also Frank, my director, said he’s in talks for three more possible shows, and he made me promise I’d audition!”

“Really? Wow,” Burt says with a laugh. “You know-”

“I mean, it’ll still be off-Broadway, but I’m nearly there, dad, and I’ve only been out of college less than a year! Others wait a lifetime.”

“- Logan would be so proud.” 

Kurt stops talking and hangs his head, swallowing down the lump of emotion that he can feel building. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “He would.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ve killed the buzz now.” 

“No, you haven’t.” Kurt looks up and smiles brightly, raising his beer in a toast. “To Logan.” 

When Kurt wakes the next morning, he doesn’t rush out to the newsstand on the corner to catch the reviews. This time, he decides he doesn’t care. He reads a few online that Meredith shows to him and he’s happy to find that they’re okay. One even mentions him by name, singling him out as really giving his all to the performance. Almost all agree that the basic premise of the show is decent, but that the script still needs some work; but that makes Kurt even more hopeful that he might be cast in a lead role if the show ends up getting reworked and taken on tour. 

Despite having to say goodbye to his dad, Kurt is buzzing when he gets to the theatre that night. He’s surprised to find Anna lingering by the stage door, fresh from her dance rehearsal at a nearby theatre. 

“Is everything okay?”

“I guess,” she says with a shrug. “I don’t know. Have you got a minute?”

“Sure.”

Anna smiles, but then she looks unsure of how to proceed, frowning and twirling a piece of hair around her finger. “There was another review.”

“Him?”

“I’m afraid so, yes. Online and in print. It’s not as scathing as all the others, but...”

“Do you have a copy?”

“I can send you the link if you want to read it, but I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“No, no, I want to. I mean, I’m going to ignore whatever it is he says anyway, because clearly I am fabulous.” He laughs as he says it, but inside he’s already worrying, and he can feel his nerves starting to build. 

“You are!” Anna agrees brightly. “You really are! And your director agrees. All the other critics agree so please, just ignore it.” 

“Oh I will.” He leans down, kissing her cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’d better go, but send the link to my phone.” 

Of course, as soon as he’s in his dressing room he tucks himself away in a corner and opens the link. Anna is right; Blaine Anderson’s review is not as scathing as previous ones have been, and Kurt has to admit that the way he writes is very eloquent and controlled, even when pointing out the same flaws in the script that the other critics had noted. Then suddenly, Kurt’s name is mentioned. 

“All credit to director Frank Fisher, who has taken a brave decision in casting Kurt Hummel as Agent Samuels. Having seen Hummel in a number of productions, I have never been inspired. I was hoping for a change here but sadly that was not to be. Hummel can certainly sing; his solo verses in two numbers is evidence of this, but I do wish he would learn to engage with the audience. I feel that, as long as Hummel keeps himself shut off and remote, he will be entirely unable to keep anyone engaged longer than it takes to admire his quiff, which seems to be growing each time I see him.   
One can only assume that Fisher was blinded by Hummel’s blue eyes instead of his talent; and this will no doubt be a casting decision he will come to regret.” 

Kurt wants to yell. He wants to hurl his phone across the room, stamp his feet, and upend every vase of flowers in the room, but he doesn’t. Very conscious that he has to share the dressing room with four others, he stays stock still and quietly sets his phone on the counter. He tries hard not to lose it but then he blinks, and two tears roll slowly down his cheeks. Bolting to the bathroom, he locks the cubicle door, and sobs into his fist. 

From the second the curtain rises, he knows he is off his game. Everything seems to go wrong from start to finish and for once, he is grateful when the end of the show comes. It’s only his second night but this time, when the director seeks him out, it’s to ask him what the hell had happened, and to demand that he makes a return to form tomorrow. 

Shrugging off all offers of heading out to eat, or to go to a club, he walks across the street and heads to the bar he passes each day. It is small, dark, and relatively quiet for a Saturday night in Manhattan. He sits on a stool; content to watch the bartender for a moment before getting served. 

“Whiskey and soda,” he mumbles. “Double.” 

“I’ll get it.” 

Kurt looks up and to his surprise, he sees the man from the coffee shop standing there. Once again he’s in a suit- navy blue this time, with a red tie- and he gives a curt nod in Kurt’s direction. 

“Thanks,” Kurt says as the man pays for his drink and gets one for himself. “I really need this.” 

“Let me guess; you’re fighting a battle other people know nothing about?”

“Ha! No. This time everyone knows about it. Feels that way, anyway.” He takes a large mouthful of his drink and chokes hard. “Shit.” 

“You okay?”

“I’ve not had whiskey before.” 

“Why did you order it then?”

“My dad always has one after a tough day. I thought I’d try it.” 

The man says nothing, but sips on his own drink, and in doing so, only serves to make Kurt feel even more awkward and clumsy than he does already. He can feel his anger, bitterness and resentment building and he knows he’s in the mood to argue. 

“Why do you always look so pissed off?”

The man smiles; “You’ve seen me twice.”

His perfect smile takes Kurt off-guard for a moment, but he quickly recovers and glares at him instead. “You’ve been in the shop a few times now,” he says smugly before realizing he's caught himself out.

“Ah! So you do still work there. Are you avoiding me?”

“Usually, yes,” Kurt says honestly. “You’re rude and arrogant.”

“I tipped you fifty bucks to say sorry.” 

“Which only makes you seem even more arrogant.”

The man shrugs, and downs the rest of his drink. “Here,” he says, throwing twenty bucks down. “Get yourself another.”

“That’s it?” Kurt calls as he starts to walk away. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, and for the first time, Kurt senses he’s riled. 

“You’re just throwing money at the problem again.” 

“You’re not a problem,” he says, walking back to Kurt’s side and smiling once more. “Your attitude is.”

“I told you, I’ve had a bad day. And I don’t like you.”

“Fair enough. So I’ll go.” 

“Why aren’t you angry at me?”

“For not liking me?” He shrugs again. “Most people don’t.” 

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Nope.”

“Wow.” Kurt laughs, and signals to the bartender for two more drinks. “Yeah, you and I are nothing alike.” 

“How come? You want people to like you?”

“Yeah. Well, one guy in particular.”

“Sheesh. I know you’re young, but that sounds very high school to me. Get over it.”

“No, not like that. He keeps...ugh. He keeps saying mean stuff about me, and it’s getting me down.”

“Again, get over it.”

“I can’t.” 

Kurt pays for the drinks, brushing the man off with a death glare when he tries to hand his twenty over. Surprised, he picks the drink up, tilting his glass in Kurt’s direction. 

“Thanks. So. Who is this guy?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met him.” 

“Yeah, again, get over it.” 

“You have no idea, okay?” Kurt cries. “I'm an actor, and some idiot hack is trying to ruin my career before it’s even begun, by criticizing every performance I give, and I’ve had enough!”

“Why does his opinion matter?”

“Because!”

“Because what? You’re presumably doing what you want to do with your life, you’re getting roles, so who gives a damn what some idiot hack thinks?” He stops, and reaches out with his right hand. For a moment, it seems as though he might be about to gently squeeze Kurt's shoulder, but then he thinks better of it, and lightly punches his arm instead. “Really, don't worry.” 

Kurt finds himself looking up into his dark eyes, and smiling in spite of himself. For some reason, his touch has suddenly made everything that much more real, and he wishes he would touch him again. “Thanks,” he says softly. “You know, when I saw you come in here, I thought my evening was going to get a whole lot worse, but you're...maybe not as bad as I thought you were.” 

The man laughs loudly, and drains the rest of his drink. “You don't like me, remember?”

“Well...” Embarrassed, Kurt sips on his drink as an awkward silence ensues. The noise of the bar bubbles all around them but all he can focus on is the fact that this devastatingly handsome man is standing right next to him, probably about to leave now that he's finished his drink, and Kurt doesn't know what to say. “Where have you been, this evening?” 

“Watching a play.” 

“Oh? Any good?” 

“Could be better.” There's a twinkle in his eye as he says it, and it makes Kurt's insides flip over. He knows he's getting sucked in; he knows this charm is only a cover for his arrogance but damn if he can't help himself right now. 

“I'm Kurt, by the way,” he says, offering his hand. “Kurt Hummel.” 

The man shakes it, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I know who you are.” 

“You do?” 

“Indeed. I'm Blaine Anderson.”


	3. Chapter 3

The change in Kurt’s demeanour is instant. He drops Blaine Anderson’s hand and gets to his feet, his eyes darkening in anger. “You... You bastard!” 

“Hmm, I had a feeling you'd say something like that.” 

“You're ruining me!” Kurt cries. He's aware that his voice is sounding high pitched and hysterical, but he's gone past the point of caring. “Why? Tell me, why are you doing this? What have you got against me? Every show I'm in, you review it and tell the world how crap I am. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? What it does to my confidence? I was in top form last night, and you know it. Then I read your review and I can't stop thinking about it, with the result that tonight, I was so far off my game I might as well have stayed home.” 

“You weren't in top form last night, Kurt,” Blaine says calmly. “Let me get you another drink.” 

“Fuck you! I was! That's the best performance I've given.” 

“Maybe,” he says evenly. “But you could be better.” 

“Why do you hate me?”

Blaine doesn't look at him but at the bartender instead, signalling for another round. “I don't hate you.” 

“You do! You must, otherwise why would you write such cruel stuff?” 

“It's my job.” 

“No it's not. It's your job to give an objective review of a show, not to single one person out time and again, just to try and make them feel like shit.” 

He slides another whiskey across to Kurt with a smile. “I'm a dumb hack, remember? Why do you get so upset? I’d have thought you were stronger than that.” 

“You don't know the first thing about me,” Kurt yells, and when other people start listening in, Blaine loses his temper, downing his drink in one and slamming the glass on the bar.

“I know you're a whiny brat, who seems to want everything handed to you on a plate. I know you've probably relied on your face to get you through life and expected everything to fall into place around you, and then you don't know how to cope when suddenly, life doesn't go the way your mommy told you it would- which is your own way, in case that's not clear. I know you need to grow up, and decide if you're strong enough to be an actor or not because let me tell you something, sweetie; you put yourself on the stage for all to see, then you invite criticism and praise all the same. You can't have one without the other.” 

Kurt is so incensed by his little speech that he doesn't stop to process any of it; he just sees red. He leaps to his feet, grabbing his bag and jacket, and spits right at Blaine Anderson’s feet. “Fuck off.” 

“Come on. I'll buy you dinner.” 

“What? Are you out of your damn mind?” 

“No. I'll buy you dinner and we can discuss this.” 

“No way! You're the biggest jerk I've ever met! Keep the fuck away from me and stop writing about me in your stupid reviews!” 

Kurt storms from the bar, out into the pouring rain, and walks to the subway at breakneck speed. It's only once he's sitting on the train that he finally feels like he can breathe again, only then he discovers he's shaking, and perilously close to tears. 

He arrives home, slamming the door behind him and flopping onto the couch where he covers his face with his hands and tries to block everything out. It's useless, of course. Meredith has heard the door slam and she emerges from her room, walks right past him and crosses the room to knock on Anna’s door. “Baby cheeks is in crisis.” 

“Fuck off,” he mutters, but he's secretly quite grateful when Anna opens her door and quickly sits on the couch next to him. 

“Well?” 

“I met Blaine Anderson.” 

“Did you kick the bastard in the balls?” 

“Meredith!” Anna rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to Kurt. “I take it things didn't go well? Was this meeting intentional?” 

“No. I had a bad show, like truly awful. I went to drown my sorrows and he came into the bar. He's the same arrogant customer from the coffee shop who tipped me a fifty that time. So we kinda got to talking, and then I introduced myself, and he said he knows who I am, and told me his name.” 

“And then you kicked him, right?” Meredith asks.

“No. But I did spit at his feet.” 

“Kurt! That is....well, that's not nice.” Anna frowns.

“He's not nice! And you know what? He gave me this speech about how I'm a brat who's always had things handed to him, and relied on my looks to sail through life. Then, after that, when I told him to fuck off, he told me he'd buy me dinner!” 

“He asked you to dinner?” 

“No no, he didn't ask, he told me,” he says to Anna. “That's the point! He makes these wild assumptions about me, writes a load of hurtful crap which dents my already fragile confidence, and then he orders me to dinner like I'm some...some...easy target.” 

“Ooh, you think he wants to sleep with you?” 

“No,” Kurt scoffs, much to Meredith’s disappointment. “I think he just assumes that money can smooth everything over. You know what?” he says as it dawns on him; “Everything he said about me, holds true for him. He's relied on money, and looks, and charm, as a cover to be able to be as rude as he wants, and he assumes that as long as he smiles or buys stuff for people there won't be any consequences. Well not this time. Not with me.” 

“He's good looking?” 

“He's.... Yeah,” Kurt admits, much to his annoyance. “He's really striking. Handsome...elegant... I don't know. He has dark eyes, and dark wavy hair which is flecked with silver. He's one of those guys who could look good in whatever, you know? I've only seen him in a suit but I'll bet he's hot as hell when he wakes up all rough with stubble. Bastard.” 

“Beautiful guy with a heart of stone,” Anna says. 

“No. He's stunning, but he's not beautiful. Not at all. True beauty radiates from within. You need to have a heart, you need to be filled with good thoughts and love.” 

“So I'm not beautiful?” Meredith asks, but Kurt kisses her cheek. 

“You can be rude as hell but you love me, and Anna, and your family, and we love you too. You're very beautiful, to me. You both are.” 

He feels warmed when both of them cuddle in close to him; like he's anchored again after coming adrift in a violent storm. 

“So what now?” Anna asks him after a time.

“Nothing. I've said all I needed to say, and you know what? I've got closure now. I've met him, and discovered he's just as rude in person as he is in print. He asked me why his opinion mattered so much, but I've just realized, it doesn't.” 

Stirred Not Shaken runs for six weeks, and Kurt steps up his game as requested. The director, Frank, is pleased with his work and quickly contacts his agent asking that Kurt auditions for his next work, a musical adaptation of The Merry Wives of Windsor. He lands the part of Sir Hugh Evans, a jealous husband and one of the supporting roles. Once again he is overjoyed, and all his loved ones are thrilled for him.

It's a busy time; most mornings, Kurt works at the coffee shop before heading to rehearsals and then back to the coffee shop for the evening shift, serving the never ending rush of regulars. He doesn't see Blaine Anderson again and he is glad. Though he’d like to be able to smugly tell him he's still working, he also can't shake off a nagging feeling that maybe this is the wrong role for him. 

“For the first time, I’m beginning to realize why actors let themselves get typecast,” he tells Anna one day. “It's not because they're boring, or lazy; it's because they know they're good in a certain style of role and they know they can pull it off.”

“Yes, but then again, there’s a lot to be said for trying out a variety of roles. If this one doesn’t suit you, I’m sure the next one will. You just need to discover what roles fit for you, what character traits give you the chance to excel.” 

“Yeah.” Kurt sighs heavily. “The trouble is, I don’t know how to find that out without failing.”

The musical opens November second, and heavy snow means his dad can't fly in for the opening. Anna and Meredith are both dancing in another show so for the first time he can remember, he has no one to support him on his opening night. 

Undeterred, and determined to make the best of the role he's been given, Kurt walks into the dressing room- this time one large room for all of them- and smiles at the huge bouquet of roses. “Someone’s got an admirer.” 

“They're for you,” a girl calls across. “They arrived about ten minutes ago.” 

“Oh.” Embarrassed, Kurt shuts up. He knows his dad will have sent them, and he knows that telling him roses are supposed to be a romantic gift will hurt his feelings. Only, when he opens the card, he sees that the flowers aren't from his dad at all. 

“Kurt- Break a leg on your opening night. Wishing you all the best, Blaine Anderson.” 

His heart racing, Kurt quickly pockets the card, looking around in case anyone has seen. He feels a rush of emotions all at once. Anger, predominantly, but also curiosity and, though he'd never admit it to himself, a little bit of pleasure. 

He wonders if this means Blaine is in the audience, and he finds himself fervently hoping not. Maybe the flowers are in place of his absence, he thinks to himself, which calms him somewhat. The last thing he wants is another scathing review when he's feeling so unsure of his role in the show to start with. 

But of course, he is there, and this time he is waiting for Kurt to emerge from the stage door, no less. It is snowing hard, and Blaine is wearing a thick gray woollen overcoat with a red scarf, and carrying a black umbrella. Kurt scowls at him, zips his jacket up to his chin, and purposely walks off in the opposite direction. 

“You're welcome,” Blaine calls after him. “For the flowers, I mean.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Is that your standard issue response when people try and talk to you?” 

“No. Only you.” Kurt stops and turns around with a glare. “Thank you for the flowers. Satisfied?” 

“Don't you want to know what I thought of the show?” Blaine asks when Kurt starts walking again. 

“I'm sure I'll find out tomorrow.” 

“I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.” 

He stops again. “No, Mr Anderson, we didn't. There was never a right foot for you and I. As long as you continue to try and sabotage my career, I don't want to know you. In fact, I don't want to know you anyway. You're rude, self-centered and arrogant. Now leave me alone.” 

Kurt walks off quicker this time, but the snow is slippery and he suddenly loses his footing, landing on his hip with a hard smack. 

Of course it is Blaine who comes to his rescue, still seemingly entirely unaffected by the heavy snowfall. He bends, offering his hand, but Kurt takes one look at his face, with the smug smile playing on his lips, and he shrugs him off, getting to his feet by himself. 

“Don't touch me.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What do you think?”

“I think...” He stops, and gives a small shake of his head. “Can I buy you a drink?” 

“No! Look, I don't know how many times I need to say this to you, but I hate you. You're the most horrible man I've ever met, and I don't want you near me. At all. Ever.” 

“Wow.” Blaine gives a low whistle and takes a step backward. “You're a little shit, aren't you? I bought you those flowers to try and say sorry for the last time we met. I've thought about it a lot and I felt like I shouldn't have let rip with that little speech like I did. However, given your attitude and the way you've spoken to me, maybe it was no more than you deserved. I was genuinely going to buy you a drink and talk about the show with you but I won't bother. I'll save it all for my review. See you around. Or not, hopefully.” 

Predictably, Blaine’s review is scathing, though surprisingly he does offer one solitary line of praise, or it sounds like praise coming from him, anyway. 

“It's good to see that Kurt Hummel is getting a steady stream of work. Maybe in time, this wide variety of roles will help him to hone his talent and make better use of his skills.” 

For a moment, Kurt is rather pleased, but then he realizes this is Blaine’s way of throwing him a bone, and he's nobody's dog, so he goes back to loathing him once more. 

The musical makes a transfer; not to another state, but to another country. London, England, to be exact, and with encouragement from his dad and roommates, Kurt agrees to play the same role there too, and in January, heads to England for a three week run. 

The reluctance and uncertainty set in almost as soon as he arrives. He finds himself staying in a rundown apartment with Frank, the director, and two female cast members. There are only two rooms, but Frank tells him he's happy to share. Given that he's not paying, Kurt feels he can't really speak up and say he hates sharing a bed with anyone, or that he likes to have time alone, and neither can he afford to go and rent somewhere else on his own, so he smiles and agrees, burying his unease and reminding himself to be grateful that there are people looking out for him. 

London is different to New York. It's smaller, more friendly and certainly an intriguing place to be, but it confuses him. He doesn't get enough time to explore it properly, meaning he has no choice but to follow Frank everywhere, though Frank doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he seems only too delighted to take Kurt under his wing, but Kurt can’t shake off his nagging doubts about Frank’s motives. 

After a week of rehearsals with new cast leads, on opening night, Kurt feels like he might either explode in rage or cry if he doesn't get some time apart from these people. It's not that everyone isn't nice- it's the opposite. Everyone is sweetly charming and happily upbeat, convinced they're all part of the greatest theatrical experience known to man. And Kurt doesn't know them well enough to feel like he can be himself. There's no one to really laugh with, or gossip with, or discuss cute guys with, and despite constantly being surrounded by people, Kurt feels quite lonely. 

The first performance goes well, but Kurt is disenchanted with the whole thing by now, still entirely convinced he’s in the wrong role and, feigning a headache, he leaves right after curtain instead of heading out to the pub, deciding he’ll just have to pay out for a cab fare home. 

“Good evening, Kurt.” 

Kurt feels a sudden rush of elation upon seeing Blaine Anderson waiting by the stage door, not for any other reason than it's good to have a sparring partner, and someone who won't put on any pretences around him. Then he frowns.

“You flew all this way to taunt me?” 

“I wanted to see the play.” 

“You mean you wanted to try and sabotage my career.” 

“Do you read any of my other reviews, Kurt?” 

“Of course.” 

“No you don't.” Blaine takes a step closer, looking him right in the eye. “Because if you did you'd know two things. One, I frequently fly places to review shows, particularly London. I'd say at least once a month. Two, I'm renowned for being a particularly scathing critic, and notoriously hard to please. So don't take it personally, because everyone gets the same treatment. That's why I'm not liked.” 

“Don't you care that your comments hurt people?” 

“I gave up caring about anyone a long time ago.” 

Intrigued, Kurt raises one eyebrow. “Oh? How come?” 

“Because.” 

“Because why?” 

“Just because, now drop it,” Blaine snaps angrily. 

“Fine. Whatever.” Kurt gives a curt nod in Blaine’s direction. “Thanks for coming. No doubt I'll read all about it.” 

“I'll buy you dinner.” 

“Why? So you don't have to go back and sit in your hotel room all alone?” 

Blaine smirks. “I'm very rarely alone in a hotel room.” 

“Is that supposed to impress me?” 

“It's supposed to piss you off.” 

“It doesn't. It makes me pity you.” 

“Then indulge me. Let me buy you dinner.” 

“No.” 

“Fine. You know what? Ever since we met face to face I've been trying to ask you to dinner or out for a drink so I can talk with you and you'll never accept, so I'm gonna say it anyway. I think you're talented, Kurt, and it annoys me that you assume I hate you. On the contrary, I like watching you on the stage, it just frustrates me that you keep accepting the wrong roles. You're going for quantity over quality and I wish you'd hold off, take a step back and wait for the right part in the right show to come along. Sure, you're getting your name out there, but at what cost? As for Frank Fisher, you know he only wants you in his bed, right? That's why he keeps casting you in everything.” 

“That is way off the mark,” Kurt snarls angrily, but the realization hits him as he says the words out loud. 

“It's true and you know it. Now let me take you to dinner and we can talk more.” 

“Now who wants me in their bed?” 

“Not me. Sheesh, I've probably got twenty years on you.” Blaine laughs, which does something funny to Kurt’s insides, and makes him look away. 

“I have to go find a cab.” 

“I'll walk you.” 

Once again it's a declaration rather than an offer, and Kurt realizes Blaine has lived his whole life used to people doing his bidding. They walk out to the main street in silence, and Blaine quickly hails a cab, holding the door open for him. 

“Your carriage, sir.” 

Kurt pauses, one hand on the door. “I thought I was a shit?” 

“Oh you are.” He smiles briefly, but it’s quickly replaced with a frown. “You're the biggest brat I think I've ever met and you frustrate the hell out of me, but I'm capable of being polite, unlike you.” 

“Dinner,” Kurt snaps, feeling the heat in his cheeks. “Tomorrow.” 

“Fine. I'll wait at the stage door.” 

He closes the cab door and walks away, and it's only when Kurt arrives at his apartment that he discovers Blaine has left fifty pounds on the seat to cover the fare.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Kurt barely sleeps. He lies perilously close to the edge of the bed, holding his breath when he hears Frank return. He feels the bed dip on the other side as Frank gets in, and Kurt immediately knows he's close, because he can feel his breath on the back of his neck and he shouldn't be able to if he was keeping properly to his own side. He wonders what would happen if he were to roll over right now. Something he'd deeply regret, probably. 

It's not that he dislikes Frank, but if Blaine thinks he has twenty years on him, then Frank must have at least thirty, and then some. Kurt feels no attraction to him whatsoever, and he's made the mistake of sleeping with someone out of pity once before. 

That time, it was his dance teacher, whom Kurt had thought was just being friendly but it turned out he had a burning crush. Kurt had felt nothing in return but almost felt as though he should. Consequently, he went to bed with him, and then ended up switching classes and changing his number in an effort to avoid his advances. 

Right now though, Kurt’s head is a mass of confusion as he lies there, wishing sleep would come. He'd felt oddly elated to see Blaine tonight, and for some reason, his smile and especially his laugh, makes him feel overcome with a longing to make him happy more often. He knows that Blaine’s natural demeanour is to be grumpy and brusque, so to know he can make him laugh seems to mean more. 

Kurt sternly reminds himself that while Blaine is undeniably attractive, he is also not the type of person who Kurt would ever want to be with. It's been a long time since he's slept with anyone- more than a year, in fact, and so Blaine’s physical appearance is proving rather distracting. 

In fact, it's proving more of a distraction as he lies there in the dark, than ever. When Frank moves even closer still, Kurt has to keep reminding himself that it's not Blaine lying behind him and if he turns around and acts on his urges, he will regret it big time. 

Suddenly, the covers move slightly, and then again. Frank’s breath comes a little faster, and then he gives a soft grunt before the covers move even faster. 

Kurt freezes, his blood running cold, his eyes wide in the darkness. He doesn't know what to do, whether to turn around and confront him, or lie there and wait it out. At first he decides to wait, but then he starts to worry that Frank might try and jerk off over him, so he does the only thing he can think to do. 

He sits up, stretches, and yawns. 

“Oh, you're awake!” Frank says, and there's an edge of panic to his voice as he scoots back to his side of the bed. 

“Headache,” Kurt mutters. “I think I'll sleep on the couch.” 

When he wakes the next morning, after just a few hours on the lumpy, hard couch, Frank is gone. Kurt is thankful, and he takes a shower in peace before heading out to the shops. He doesn't want to spend his hard earned money on an outfit for dinner, because he doesn't want Blaine thinking he's gone to an effort for him, but he also imagines that when Blaine says dinner, he doesn't mean a burger and fries in some greasy fast food joint.

He spends far more than he should have on a shirt and a nice pair of shoes, ignoring his inner voice which is telling him he has plenty of nice clothes back at the apartment that he could choose from. 

He takes a shower right after the show, figuring Blaine will just have to wait. He dresses, and double and triple checks his hair in the mirror before running down the stairs, out of the stage door, and right into Frank. 

“Kurt! Hey. You look nice. Ready for dinner?” 

“Huh?” 

“You've been busy all day,” Frank says. He smiles softly and takes Kurt’s elbow. “I missed being in your company and I thought you and I could go grab some food before heading home.” 

“Uh...” 

“He's with me.” Blaine steps forward, and though he matches Frank in height, he still seems to stare him down, his dark eyes almost burning with intensity. “We have a date.” 

“We do not have a date!” 

“We have a date,” Blaine reiterates, entirely unruffled. “Good to see you, Frank. Nice to see the show doing so well. Kurt? Ready?” 

“We do not have a fucking date,” he hisses as they walk away. “And don't touch me,” he adds when Blaine places a hand in the small of his back. 

“Fine. Just get in the car.” 

“What car?” 

“This one.” 

“It has someone in it.” 

“My driver,” Blaine says with a laugh. “Now get in.” 

“You didn't need to bring your fancy car and your stupid, fancy driver,” Kurt grumbles as he slides across the backseat. “I already know you're rich because I never see you in anything less than a Tom Ford suit.” 

“Oh you're just a treasure, aren't you?” Blaine snaps. “Such a peach. Your mommy ever tell you that?” 

“My mom died when I was two hours old,” Kurt says, then turns to stare out of the window. 

“Shit. Sorry.” 

“Yeah,” Kurt says, quieter this time. “That's why, when we first met and you said that comment about my mom telling me the world revolved around me, it really fucking hurt.” 

“Yeah...well...” Blaine flounders for a moment. “You should have said.” 

“You didn't give me much opportunity.” 

“It was you who stormed out of that bar.” 

“Are you surprised?” 

“I was trying to talk to you, I told you!” He breaks off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. Can we just...not argue?” 

“I don't know. Can we?” 

“I'm asking you.” 

“And I'm asking you.” 

Blaine positively glares at him then, and Kurt is pretty sure he's close to being thrown out on the street for being so impertinent, but then he smiles and in spite of himself, Blaine smiles back. “Damn. I hate you.” 

“The feeling’s mutual. Where are we going?” 

“To dinner. Was Frank hitting on you?” 

“No, he was asking if I wanted to grab food, not demanding I go to dinner with him, unlike some.” 

Blaine frowns. “He shouldn't be.” 

“Why? I'm working with the guy, he's perfectly nice, and he's never been inappropriate,” Kurt lies. 

“He’s okay, but I've met guys like him before. I've been on the receiving end of that kind of attention and it's not pleasant. At least, not if you're not interested. I'm assuming you're not?” 

“No I am not!” A thunderous silence follows as they sit waiting for the traffic lights. “Tell me then.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You said you were on the receiving end of unwanted attention. Tell me.” 

“Over dinner.” 

It's then an entirely silent ride to the Langham, which Kurt already knows to be a super posh hotel before he's even set foot inside. Blaine is greeted with polite warmth by the staff and he and Kurt are led to the dining room, which only contains two other couples, both of whom look like they're just finishing their meals. 

“I think they're closing,” Kurt whispers, because the restaurant seems like the type of place where you should talk quietly. 

“They are. But they'll stay open for us. I made a reservation.” 

“But-” 

“But nothing. Sit,” Blaine orders as a waiter pulls out a chair for him. “You look nice, by the way.” 

Disappointed, Kurt frowns as he settles in his chair. “Is that all?” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“Nothing. I just... Never mind.” Kurt watches as wine is poured, and he politely thanks the waiter, while Blaine ignores his presence. “Is there uh...is there a menu?” 

“They'll bring the food out.” 

“What if I don't like it?” 

“You will.” 

“I might not.” 

Kurt sulks, and drinks his wine much quicker than he should, with the result that the waiter refills his glass and also sets down a large bottle of water with a rather pointed look. Blaine watches all this play out, and says nothing until they're left alone. 

“I don't know how to compliment you without sounding like a lech.” 

Intrigued, Kurt leans on his elbow and gives a smile. “Oh?” 

“I'm not used to this.” 

“To what?” 

“Dates.” 

“This isn't a date. This is you, railroading me into dinner. Say what you want to say and I promise not to think you're a lech. A jerk, maybe,” he teases. “But not a lech.” 

“Ooh you're so...” Blaine stops, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “You look really good,” he manages to get out, and then, to Kurt's surprise, he blushes and takes a large mouthful of wine. 

“Thank you. So tell me what happened?” 

“Ugh. Why do you have to be so persistent?” 

“Because I know it winds you up. Now tell me.” 

“Fine. So I was just out of college, and I was flat broke. I couldn't even get a job waiting tables. There were no jobs out there, or if there was, then I wasn't lucky enough to land them. I had nowhere to live, and no friends, which won't surprise you, I guess. So then I landed a job as a bartender in this sleazy joint out in Harlem. I met a guy...in his sixties, he was. He would talk with me as I worked, and like Frank, he was kind...seemed genuine, you know? Offered me a room in his house. Not a couch for a few days, like I was used to, but a room. He wouldn't take rent, said all he wanted was to see me get back on my feet. Which was great, until two weeks in when he climbed into my bed in the middle of the night and pushed his dick down my throat.” 

“Ew! Oh my god!” Kurt cries. “That's...” 

“I know. Assault, rape, whatever you want to call it...but I did it. I let him use me, because I had nowhere else to go. I stuck it out for three months, until he brought home a group of friends and asked me to pleasure them one by one.” 

“Tell me you didn't.” 

“No, I didn't. I left, and stayed in a hostel until I could afford an apartment.” 

“That's awful,” Kurt says softly. He is genuinely saddened by Blaine’s story, but also intrigued. “Can I ask then... Where did the money come from? I mean you obviously have a lot of it, right?” 

“I do, yes.” 

“Being a theatre critic pays well?” 

“No.” He laughs. “It's okay, I guess, but I don't do it for the money. I uh... I come from a very wealthy family. It's inherited wealth, and generations of stockbrokers who've only added to it.” 

“But not you?” 

“Not me, no.” Blaine goes quiet then, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass. He looks up when a plate of smoked salmon and scallops is set in front of them, but neither of them start to eat. 

“Fine,” he huffs when Kurt keeps watching him. “My brother is a stockbroker.” 

“Doesn't explain why you were left flat broke.” 

“My family paid me a very large sum of money to keep out of their lives when they discovered I was gay,” he says, and he delivers the news so matter-of-factly that Kurt has to do a double take. “I refused to touch it, and kept trying to make them accept me. When I realized that wasn't going to happen, no matter how hard I tried, I decided I might as well use their money wisely. I bought an apartment and invested the rest. I now live off the money those investments made, and the rest is in savings.”

“How much did they pay you?” 

“Damn, you're nosy. Five million.”

“Dollars?” 

“No, potatoes.” Blaine sighs and rolls his eyes. “Yes, dollars. Five million of them.” 

“Five...” Kurt's mouth hangs open. “They... But... Wow. I can't....” 

“Yeah well. There it is.” 

“Is that why you're so obnoxious to everyone?” 

“I'm not obnoxious to everyone,” Blaine barks. “Now eat, for god's sake. At least that'll shut you up.” 

“We’re sharing?” 

“Yes.” 

Kurt heaps smoked salmon onto his plate, deciding he might as well make the most of this luxury, and when he takes the first mouthful he groans out loud. “Damn, that is so...” He eats more, closing his eyes and moaning. “Yes.” 

“Kurt!” 

“What?” 

“You sound like you're having a damn orgasm.” 

“I think I might be.” 

Blaine laughs, unable to help himself, and Kurt grins when he sees he's starting to relax. “This is seriously good food.” 

“It is. But we’re sharing, remember?” 

“Whatever. So, you don't see any of your family?” 

“No. Can we stop talking about that now?” 

“Not even your brother?” 

“I saw him about eighteen months back. I bumped into him on the street. He told me dad has cancer.” 

“What? That's terrible. He could be dead by now!” 

“It's in remission, apparently. Or it was, anyway.” He shrugs, and takes the last piece of salmon. “I guess Cooper would have contacted me if he'd died. I would've inherited.” 

“Cooper? That's your brother? He lives in New York?” 

“I don't know. He works on Wall Street, but I think he and his wife moved out to Westchester.” 

“Can I have that last piece of salmon?” 

“No.” 

“Blaine, that makes me really sad.” 

Blaine stops, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Fine.” He offers the salmon across, but Kurt shakes his head. 

“Not that. About your family, I mean.” 

“It is what it is.” 

“But it shouldn't be.” 

“Are you eating this, or what?” 

“Yes.” Kurt takes the salmon, and deliberately groans and throws his head back. “Oh my god!” 

“You're crazy.” 

“Yep.” 

“You know, that's the first time you've said my name.” 

“Is it? Blaine. I like it. Tell me about your reviews, then. Why are you so critical?” 

“I just am.” 

“Uh-uh,” he says with a smile. “You told me you're notoriously difficult to please. How come?” 

Blaine sits back, waiting, as their starter is cleared and their main course set in front of them. “Venison,” he says, gesturing to the platter. “Go ahead, since your appetite seems never ending.” 

“I've never had venison.” 

“Oh. It's good. Rich.” 

“Everything about this meal is rich. Especially the company.” 

“True. Try it,” he says, reaching across to load his plate for him. “I think you'll like it.” 

Kurt resists the urge to snap at him for loading his plate without asking or offering to do it. It's not easy; he’s fiercely independent and Blaine's constant assumption about things is one of his biggest sticking points, but he's also really rather enjoying this whole evening, so he bites his lip and waits patiently. 

“When I was at school, I loved the arts,” Blaine tells him eventually. “But it was always something deemed not worthy by my parents. They wanted me to go into stocks, or accounting...even law..but not any kind of artistic endeavours. It's funny, because they collect art, but not from a discerning point of view. More like ‘that painting is worth a lot of money so we must have it’ angle. Because it was banned, the arts became even more precious to me. My escape from everything, and as life became harder, and I had to come to terms with being gay, and them not accepting me, I became more difficult to please. It became harder to escape into a piece of music, or a play. I had high demands and I wanted them met. I still find it very hard- in all areas of my life- to find enjoyment, and to be able to relax.   
I studied a combined major of English Literature, Theatre Studies and Journalism, hoping that maybe my parents would realize I could have quite good career prospects, but they didn't. I still love my job, anyway...it's just I don't often find anything or anyone who captures me completely, makes me forget...and I guess because of that, I've earned my reputation. I don't mind though. In fact, I quite enjoy it.” 

“Do you...” 

“I'm not going to say anything else,” he snaps, blushing again. “So don't ask. You already know more about me than I'd like, so no more questions, because I won't answer.” 

Kurt nods, his mind whirling with a thousand and one questions or things he'd like to say. “Okay.” 

“Tell me about you, instead.” 

“Um... I'm from Wisconsin, a tiny little town called Deerfield, where everyone knows each other's business. I knew I wanted to escape as soon as I could, and I got into Pace on a scholarship.” 

“You'd never been to New York?” 

“No.” 

“That's brave.” 

“Or stupid.” 

“You like it?” 

“I love it now. It feels like home. I have great roommates, Anna and Meredith, who drive me completely crazy but I love them both to death. They're both musical theatre grads like me. Anna actually dated my brother for a time.” 

“But not now?” 

“No.” Kurt looks away, and drains his wine. 

“That must be awkward.” 

“Not really.”

“Are you close to your family?” 

“Very. My dad raised us, obviously, and he's just incredible. Then there's my granny, my mom’s mom. She lives in the next town over and she's pretty much the most perfect granny there ever was. I'm kinda the opposite to you. My family’s never had much money. My dad busted his ass off working in a warehouse to afford dance lessons, singing lessons, anything he could to help me out. Logan played football in high school and then college, and dad used to go to all his games with me and granny... He's the absolute best.” 

“I envy you.” 

“It's not been easy.” 

“I realize that, but to have such a loving family...I used to want that too.” 

“You don't now?” 

“No, and I told you no more questions. How old are you?” 

“Twenty three. You? Am I allowed to ask that?” 

“Ugh. Too old. Forty three.” 

“You're only as young as the guy you feel, right?” Kurt gives a wink, and Blaine laughs. 

“Then my age is non-existent.” 

“I thought you said you're never alone in a hotel room?” 

“Don't push me.” 

“Fine.” 

Dessert is a salted caramel tart with almond ice cream. It seems to be an intimate dessert to share; especially as it's served on one plate and no individual plates are brought out with it. Blaine looks across at Kurt, and gently nudges his ankle. “No sex noises, please.” 

Kurt burns. The low, sultry tone of Blaine’s voice, coupled with the gentle touch of his toe, seems to start a persistent throb in his groin, and a pooling of heat in his belly, which add up to him not being able to look up at his face at all. 

“Kurt? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” he whispers, staring at the table cloth. He's taken off guard, and completely unsure of what to do next. If Blaine is flirting with him, is it okay to flirt back? Is that what he wants? Is that what Kurt himself wants? If he's not flirting, and Kurt tries to turn on the charm, will it all backfire spectacularly?

As he sits there, contemplating all these questions, a mental image forms of him and Blaine in bed together; his hands roaming over Kurt's body, his lips on his skin. 

“Shit.” 

“What now?” 

“Nothing.” Kurt clears his throat and forces himself to look up. “I like it here.” 

“Good.” 

Still unsure of how to proceed, and given that Blaine seems to be stuck too, Kurt digs his spoon into the tart, scoops some ice cream, and offers it across.

“No way.” 

Kurt keeps the spoon in place, challenging him with his eyes. “Why not?” 

“Because that's....it's... Oh fine,” Blaine huffs, annoyed. He opens his mouth, and lets Kurt feed him. Swallowing quickly, he gives a curt nod. “It's good. Now I'll feed myself, thank you.” 

“You don't like it when you're not in control, do you?” 

“No I do not.” 

And at that moment, Kurt recognizes that maybe Blaine feels the same stirrings of want as he does, but it pains him to be smitten with someone he thinks of as a brat. 

They eat in silence, but Kurt finds it within himself to rest his foot against the inside of Blaine's leg, and rub gently. At first, there is no reaction whatsoever but then he looks up, studies Kurt for the longest time, and eventually smiles. 

“Here.” He offers his spoon across and Kurt dutifully accepts, making a loud groan as he does so. 

“It's better than sex.” 

“Then you're doing sex all wrong.” 

“I'm just not having sex,” Kurt complains. “That's the problem.” 

Blaine grins. “Go see Frank. He'll sort you out.” 

“You bastard.” Kurt laughs, suddenly realizing he's been doing a lot of that all evening. 

Blaine looks pleased with himself, but when Kurt yawns, he frowns. “It's late, huh?” 

“I'm sorry. I didn't sleep much last night.” 

“It's fine. Come on.” He stands, and pulls Kurt's chair out for him, beckoning to the waiter for Kurt's jacket to be brought over. 

“You haven't paid.” 

“Neither have you.” He laughs loudly at the look of horror on Kurt's face. “I'm staying here. They'll put it on my tab.” He holds Kurt's jacket for him to slide his arms in, and asks the waiter to have the car come around to the front. 

“It's one in the morning!” 

“Which is precisely why I'm not sending you home in a cab.” 

“Why are you being nice?” Kurt asks as they walk slowly to the hotel doors. 

“Because you're a brat, but you make me laugh, and I enjoyed your company.” 

“You said you hate me.” 

“I do.” 

“I had a really nice time.” 

“Good.” Blaine rolls his shoulders, and looks away. “So did I. Come here tomorrow morning. I'll take you shopping.” 

“That's not how it goes, Blaine.” 

“Huh?” 

“You can't just tell someone to do something, and expect they'll fall into line. You want to see me? You have to ask, and ask nicely.” 

Blaine growls his annoyance, his eyes turning dark. “Fine. I'd like to see you again, if that's okay. Would you like to meet tomorrow? I'll take you shopping. I mean... We could do that, if you wanted?” 

“I'll meet you,” Kurt concedes coolly, though inside he's dancing for joy. “But you're not spending money on me.” 

“We’ll see.” Blaine glances outside. “Car’s here. Just tell Tom the address.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” He rocks slightly on his heels, and clears his throat. “Am I allowed to kiss you goodnight?” 

Kurt swoons, looking deep into those brown eyes and forgetting all about Blaine's arrogance and surly temperament. “Yes.” 

He waits, and Blaine leans in, letting his lips graze Kurt's cheek softly. “Goodnight.”


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt goes to bed feeling immensely frustrated. When Blaine had asked to kiss him, he had assumed he meant a proper kiss which he would have happily accepted, even though they were in public. However, the brief, soft kiss on his cheek had set his heart racing, made that heat inside of him flare up again, and left him reeling. Then he figures that’s probably how Blaine wanted him to feel, and then he’s annoyed at himself for doing so. 

He sleeps on the couch once more, waking at every creak of the floorboards but even though he’s tired, he has a smile on his face and a spring in his step when morning arrives and he heads to the bathroom to take a shower. 

He’s just washing his hair, and contemplating bursting into song, when he hears a noise, and freezes. “Uh...hello?” he calls out in a voice which wavers with fear. 

“Kurt?” 

The curtain pulls back, and Kurt screams loudly at the sight of Frank standing there, completely naked and masturbating, slowly. 

“What the FUCK? GET OUT! GET OUT!” 

“Kurt I thought...”

“No, you thought wrong!” he yells, pulling the curtain around himself. “Jesus Christ, Frank! Leave. NOW!” 

He’s still shaking when he arrives at Blaine’s hotel, and he paces around anxiously after asking the receptionist to let Blaine know he’s arrived. He’s not kept waiting too long, and Blaine looks as sharp as ever in a dark gray three piece suit with a light blue shirt and navy tie. 

“Morning.” 

“So I think you were right about Frank,” he blurts, running a hand through his hair. 

“What? He hit on you?”

Blaine guides him to a chair, where Kurt sits heavily and draws a deep breath to calm himself. “I didn’t tell you, but the night before last, he got into bed and started jerking off behind me.” 

“You’ve been sharing a bed?”

“Shut up. Anyway. I couldn’t bear it, so I pretended to suddenly wake up and went to sleep on the couch. I slept there last night, too. Then, this morning, he walked in on me when I was showering.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t an accident, either. He was naked. And aroused. It was not a nice sight.” 

“You’re not staying there.” 

“I have to!”

“No you don’t. You can quit. Fly back with me tomorrow.”

“I can’t do that. Imagine how unprofessional that will seem? And let’s face it, Frank is going to protect himself, isn’t he? He’ll make out like he turned me down, or something. I need to finish the rest of the run.”

“Fine. Stubborn ass,” Blaine barks. “But you’re not staying in that apartment. You can stay here with me, tonight, and then we’ll sort it out from there.” 

“Stay with you?”

“I’m not like him,” he snaps angrily. “I won’t hit on you. I have a suite. There’s two bedrooms.” 

“I don’t think...”

“I know you said I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m telling you now. You’re staying with me tonight. Get in the car. We’ll go get your stuff.” 

“Now? But-”

“Don’t test me, Kurt. Get in the damn car.” 

It’s only when they’re nearing the apartment building that Kurt dares speak again. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

But the hard set of his jaw, and the deep frown lines, seem to tell Kurt otherwise and he feels close to tears by the time they pull up outside. “I’ll just...”

“I’m coming with you.” 

Kurt doesn’t argue, just unlocks the door and leads Blaine up a narrow staircase to a dirty looking apartment, where he seems entirely out of place in his pristine designer suit. Frank is clearly waiting for Kurt’s return, because he's sitting on the edge of the couch, leaping to his feet when the door opens. His face falls when he sees Blaine is with him, but he recovers enough to smile tightly. 

“Hello there, Blaine. Good to see you again.” 

“Kurt’s leaving.” 

“He can’t!” 

“He’s not quitting the show, but he’s leaving this place.” He pauses, glances at Kurt, and then smugly adds: “He’ll be staying with me.” 

“That’s not...” Kurt starts, but the withering glare, and the fact that Blaine is offering him a chance to get out of a dark situation, make him stop talking immediately. 

“Get your stuff.”

“Kurt.” Frank starts down the hallway after him, but Blaine’s hand strikes him very firmly in the chest, keeping him in place. 

“Don’t you dare. I will ruin you, Frank, so help me God. You know I’ve got the influence to do it, too. So stay exactly where you are.” 

It doesn’t take Kurt long to grab all his belongings and throw them into his two suitcases, and he doesn’t look at Frank as they leave. Blaine does, though, giving a lingering stare which leaves Frank in no doubt of his intentions should he overstep the mark. Rather than be annoyed at his dominance over the situation and the menace he's displaying, Kurt finds himself grateful and also, more than a little intrigued.

“Thank you,” he says once they’re on their way again, and Blaine nods. 

“I’m not mad at you, really.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m mad as hell at him, though.”

“I didn’t lead him on.”

“I know that.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “As if you would need to get with someone like that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ve looked in a mirror. You know what it means.” 

Kurt grins, turning to face him. “Do you think I’m nice looking?”

“No.” 

“Okay.” Satisfied, Kurt leans back, still smiling to himself. “Where are we going?” 

“Shopping. I told you that, yesterday.” 

“I don’t want to go shopping. I haven’t got any money.”

“I have.” 

“But that’s not what I want!” Kurt cries angrily. “I love shopping, sure, but for a date? It’s hardly very romantic, is it?”

“Woah. Hold up. Firstly, this is not a date. Secondly, there is not and never will be any hint of romance between you and I. I don’t do stuff like that, so you’re way off the mark.” 

“Fine, but even as friends, I’d rather do something fun, wouldn’t you?”

“Like what?”

“Like...Oh! I know. You could take me to the Natural History museum to see that massive dinosaur. My brother and I used to look at pictures of that in a book we had. I’ve always wanted to see it. Can we? Please?”

Blaine looks at him, raising one eyebrow. “If we must. But don’t call me your friend.” 

“You’re full of the joys of spring, aren’t you?”

“I’m pissed off!”

“About Frank?”

“Yes!”

“I can handle myself, Blaine.” 

“That’s not the point! The point is...” Blaine stops and smiles, and for a moment, every one of his features softens. His eyes seem to shine as he looks briefly out of the window, and then back to Kurt. “Come here.” 

“Why?”

“Just slide over, damnit!” 

Kurt obliges, his eyes locked on Blaine as he does so. He waits and ever so gently, Blaine lifts his chin with one finger, and kisses him softly just at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for coming out with me today.” 

Struck dumb for a moment, Kurt blinks, then manages to choke out “You’re welcome,” before sliding back into his own seat. 

“I’m still pissed off.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” 

Blaine takes one look at the line for the museum, decides they won't be waiting in that, and heads to the entrance with Kurt scurrying after, feeling positively mortified at having everyone glaring at his back. He forgets all about that once he's inside though, and it's Blaine’s turn to trail behind as he runs eagerly to the huge T-Rex and stands, staring. 

He stares for so long that eventually Blaine steps up next to him and they stand shoulder to shoulder. 

“It's pretty impressive,” he admits begrudgingly. 

“My brother died.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Logan. My brother,” Kurt says, still staring up at the enormous model. “He died. Rare heart defect that none of us knew anything about. I was in my second year of college, he was in his fourth. Training to be a teacher. He just...he died. And I think a bit of me died too.” 

“Um...” 

“He was alive one day, and then he wasn't. That's all. Just there, and then gone.” 

“Right.” Blaine waits, but Kurt doesn't say anything else. “I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with that information,” he admits. “But I am very sorry to hear that he died.” 

“I don't know why I told you...except I've never told anyone before. Everyone who's in my life now, was in my life then, or else they don't matter enough to be told.” 

“I matter?” 

“Damn.” 

They laugh and briefly, Blaine puts his arm around Kurt’s waist, and squeezes softly. “You wanna see the rest of this dumb place, or are we done?” 

“It is not dumb!” Kurt huffs. “You know, you should... Oh.” He stops, blushing. “You're teasing me.” 

“Hmm. Maybe. Come on.” 

“Why do you always wear a suit?” Kurt asks as they wander around. 

“I don't. Well, day to day, I do. But at home I take my jacket and tie off.” 

“Do you even own a pair of sweats?” 

“Of course I do! They're for the gym.” 

“Or for lying on the couch all day on a Sunday.” 

“I'm not a student.” 

“Neither am I.” 

“You act like it.”

“What do you do to relax?” At this, Blaine smirks, so Kurt punches his arm. “Don't be crude.” 

“I didn't say a word! I read, watch plays, listen to music.” 

“See friends?” 

“I don't have any. This? Seeing you twice in two days? This is the most sociable I've been in years.” Plunging his hands in his pockets, Blaine doesn't look at Kurt as he says it, but studies an ancient portrait instead.

“You used to live here, didn't you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You liked it?” 

Blaine shrugs. “I guess. I prefer the theatre scene here to New York, that's for sure.” 

“And you lived in Paris too, right? And LA?” 

“Someone’s been googling. Yes I did.” 

“So where’s home?” 

“I don't know.” He frowns in annoyance and walks on, making Kurt scurry after him. “I have a house in LA, another in Malibu. Apartments in New York, Paris, hotels I favor in Barcelona, Rome, London... I like lots of places.” 

“Can I ask, when was the last time you were in a relationship?” 

“The twelfth of never.” 

“Really?” 

“Not for me. You?” 

“I've been in a few. Short term things, mostly. Don't you want to find that one person?” 

“No I do not. Egyptians. Come on.” 

For the rest of the time that they're in the museum, conversation is strictly limited to the exhibits. Even after, when they decide to go for lunch, they discuss the menu of the small cafe rather than anything deep. But to Kurt, it's welcome. It's nice to know they can do this; hold mundane conversation without wanting to rip each other's heads off, and enjoy one another's company. 

“Can I take you shopping now?” Blaine asks as soon as their lunch is done. 

“What is it about shopping? Are my clothes really that bad?” 

“No, but you could look better. I don't know. You just look like you'd enjoy buying good clothes, that's all.” 

“You mean I look effeminate?” 

Blaine laughs loudly. “No! Seriously, have you ever actually seen you? Because you seem to have some warped self-image.” 

“It's not that. It's just someone said it to me once, and it's always been a hang up.” 

“I'm not attracted to girls.” 

“You're attracted to me?” 

Blaine opens his mouth to rebuff it, closes it again, and then mutters; “Damn.” 

“Ha! Well thank you, anyway.” 

“Be quiet. Just indulge me, please.” 

“Okay.” 

“Finally.” 

They head to a large, and insanely expensive department store, which Blaine seems to know well. When they reach the menswear section, he is greeted by name and told to take a seat. Champagne is brought out, and all the time, Kurt just stares, unable to reconcile this world of shopping with the usual rummage for the best bargains that he has to endure. 

“So uh...shopping?” 

“Just sit tight. They'll come ask what you want, then bring you a selection.” 

“That's not shopping.” 

“It is to me.” 

But Kurt doesn't know what he wants, and he feels very out of place and insignificant as an assistant stands there, waiting for him to order him around. 

“What do you like to wear, sir?” 

“Um...just um...jeans...I guess. I like jeans. And uh...I like scarves. But I don't really need any.” 

“Let the man do his job,” Blaine says quietly, and Kurt senses he's losing patience. “Just bring some key pieces from this season,” he orders and the assistant scurries away. 

When he returns, Kurt is directed to a large, private dressing room while Blaine sits outside on his phone, answering emails or reading the news; Kurt doesn't know which, but he's just grateful that he's distracted. 

He doesn't know who the assistant thought he was dressing, but the first outfit presented to him is a pair of tight tailored pants, with a pinstripe shirt and dark cravat. The second is a pair of the tightest maroon jeans Kurt thinks he has ever seen, and some kind of hideous sweater with flames on it, which costs over five hundred pounds. The third outfit is a suit, a nice suit, granted, but Kurt has no need for a suit at all, so he dismisses it out of hand and stands there in his underwear, wondering what to do. 

“Today please, Kurt.” 

“Don't speak to me like that,” he snaps back through the curtain. “I hate it.” 

“Don't be so annoying then.” 

He emerges, wearing the jeans, the pinstripe shirt and cravat, and the vest from the suit. Blaine looks up. “Finally.” 

But then he stops, swallows hard, and Kurt notices the unmistakable way his eyes focus on his hips and groin before slowly moving up. “You uh...you like that?” 

“I don't know. Do you?” 

“This isn't about me.” 

“I think it is.”

“Do you want those clothes or not?” 

“I'd like someone to give me an honest opinion!” Kurt cries. Once again he feels close to tears. While in many ways spending time with Blaine is fun, it's also so wildly different to anything he's ever experienced that he feels uncomfortable, insecure, and this roller coaster of emotion, coming on the back of the incident with Frank, leaves Kurt reeling. “You never say anything! I ask if you think I'm good looking, you say no. I tell you my brother died, you say you don't know what you're supposed to do with that. I ask if you're attracted to me, you don't answer. Now you're sitting there, forcing me to buy things with your money, which I already feel awkward about, but you won't tell me whether you like the outfit, or if I look nice, or if I'm spending too much....and I don't know what to do, how to act, or what to say because I'm worried I'll do it all wrong!” 

Blaine listens to all this calmly and then, when Kurt is done, he picks up his phone again. “Get dressed.” 

Kurt does as he's told, and follows Blaine from the store in silence. There are no bags, and he's seen no evidence of Blaine paying for anything, so he assumes that after his outburst, Blaine has once again decided he's a brat. 

The car is waiting for them and Kurt marvels that the driver always seems to know where Blaine wants to go, because he never tells him out loud. This time, they take a long detour, going past all the sights for Kurt to see while Blaine stays locked to his phone, barely glancing up. They don't speak at all, not even when they arrive back at the hotel. 

Kurt assumes he's expected to follow Blaine up to his room, so he does, only it's not a room. It's a suite which is at least twice the size of his entire apartment back home, with two bedrooms and a sitting room, and the most stunning views. Set on the floor next to the couch, is at least ten bags from the store they've just visited, making Kurt do a double take. 

“They're yours,” Blaine informs him. “Your room is that one. Bathroom too. Do what you want. Tom will take you to the theatre when it's time.” 

He disappears, closing the double doors to the master bedroom behind him, and Kurt wanders about for a bit before taking a look in the bags. The outfit he had tried on is there, along with several more scarves, three more pairs of jeans, some pants, shirts, and four pairs of shoes. 

He moves the bags to his room, which now contains all of his belongings, neatly packed away, and there he sits on the edge of the bed, lost. He contemplates calling his dad, or Anna, but then he wouldn't know where to start with this insane story, so he does the only thing he can think that he really wants to do; he curls up on his side, and cries. 

He doesn't hear Blaine come back into the sitting room, but the doors to his room are open so he gets a clear view of Kurt’s shaking back and then suddenly he's there, giving his shoulder a nudge. “Get up.” 

“No.” 

“Please.” 

It's the please that makes him oblige, but he's careful not to look at Blaine and show his blotchy, tear-stained face. He's expecting to be berated; he's not expecting to be held. 

When Blaine takes him in his arms, suddenly it all seems okay, though that only makes Kurt cry harder. Blaine holds him close, an arm around his waist and one firm hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to rest into the crook of his neck.

He says nothing, for the longest time, but eventually Kurt feels a gentle kiss into his hair. Followed by “I'm really sorry for upsetting you.” 

“No,” Kurt says, pulling back slightly to wipe at his eyes. “It's not you. It's just...everything. Being here, Frank, the show, this entirely different world... I don't know.” 

“If I don't say stuff, it's because I don't know how, not because I don't want to,” Blaine says stiffly. 

“Why don't you just say it anyway?” 

“I can’t.”

“Just tell me.” 

“I uh...” Blaine stops, and then shoves Kurt's head back over his shoulder so he doesn't have to look at him. “I think you're incredibly beautiful,” he says quietly. “And you looked hot as hell in that outfit. Now I'm going to take a shower,” he announces, and he's gone from the room before Kurt has any chance to respond. 

He doesn't reappear until Kurt is about to leave for the theatre, when he coldly announces that he will be going to watch a different show. Kurt feels oddly disappointed, but he knows it would be entirely unreasonable to expect Blaine to watch the show for a fourth time, and he knows that going to the theatre is his job. 

That evening, no one speaks to him. He goes on stage, does his job and then, once he's in the car on the way back to the hotel, he realizes that he's entirely unbothered. In fact, everyone's avoidance of him had made everything a whole lot easier since there were no awkward questions. 

It feels undeniably strange to walk back into the Langham and up to Blaine’s suite, letting himself in as if he belonged, which he surely doesn't. 

Blaine sits at the table, typing on a laptop. For the first time, he's not wearing his suit jacket or tie. His collar is open, his shirt sleeves rolled back and when he turns at the sound of the door, Kurt notices he's wearing glasses. 

“Oh.” 

“Hey.” Blaine smiles, seemingly in a better mood than earlier. “How did it go?” 

“Uh....” 

“Kurt?” 

“I'm just....” He dives into his room, closes the door and leans against it, breathing hard. A sudden urge of sexual longing, stronger than he has ever known, surges through him, and he feels himself growing hard. As if he were an inexperienced teenager once more, he is entirely powerless to stop it. 

He takes a shower, quickly bringing himself to a rushed and unsatisfactory orgasm, but at least it's got the sudden urge to ride Blaine senseless out of his system. He dresses in his old, worn sweats and Rolling Stones t-shirt, deciding that he doesn’t care if Blaine doesn’t approve, and then he steps into the sitting room. 

Blaine stops typing, and lowers his glasses, looking over the top of them. “Are you okay?” 

The longing instantly returns. “Glasses.” 

“Yes,” Blaine says slowly. “I’m old, remember? All my faculties are waning.” 

“I doubt that.” Kurt bites his lips as soon as he’s said it, and blushes hard. 

Blaine clearly catches his meaning, because he takes the glasses off, closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, staring across at him. “You’re like a different kid to the one who was crying earlier.”

“I’m not a kid. And anyway, you’re different too.”

“Yes. Well, I made an idiot of myself and now I’m trying to ignore it.”

“When you told me that? You didn’t.” Kurt smiles, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “You kinda made me swoon.” 

“Crazy brat,” Blaine mutters, but there’s a smile on his face as he walks over to the bar and pours two whiskey and sodas.

“What were you writing?”

“My review.”

“Can I see?”

“If you must.” He hands a drink to Kurt and sits, opening up the laptop and pulling up the review. Kurt hovers over his shoulder, close enough to hear his breathing, close enough to smell his cologne. Close enough to kiss him, if he were only brave enough. 

“Ouch,” he says as he reads. “That’s harsh.”

“They shouldn’t be shit.” 

Kurt turns to look at him, raising one eyebrow. 

“What?” Blaine asks and suddenly the air turns heavy with desire. Their faces are inches apart, and Kurt smiles softly. 

“What?” 

Blaine returns the smile and for a moment, Kurt is sure he will kiss him. He knows that if that happens, it’ll end in bed, and maybe Blaine knows this too, which is why he quickly looks away, clearing his throat. “You must be hungry. I haven’t eaten, have you?”

“Uh...no.” Dazed, Kurt sits slowly in the adjacent chair. 

“We’ll get room service.”

“Do they do burgers?”

“They’ll do whatever you want.” 

Kurt would like to sprawl on the couch, stuffing his face with burger and fries followed by ice cream, but the meal is served on fancy china, of course, and Blaine sets it on the table, along with a steak for him and a bottle of red wine. 

“I go home tomorrow,” he says as they start to eat. “Are you sure you won’t come?”

“No. You know what? I’m good. I can handle not being spoken to, and the whispers. I know the truth.”

“Call me, if anything happens, and I’ll fly you right out. You can repay me, if you must, before you stubbornly insist against it, but just promise me you’ll call me if you need me.” 

“I don’t have your number.” 

“That can be arranged,” Blaine says with a smile, and then he looks down at his food. “Uh...Kurt, I know you don’t like me, and I know you’re a brat, and I don't even know why we’re still talking to one another but uh... y’know.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “I know.” 

Once again, his eyes grow heavy as the evening wears on. He barely finishes his wine, and doesn’t get a chance to order his ice cream before Blaine carefully helps him to his feet and into his room. “You a Stones fan?” he asks, looking at Kurt’s shirt. 

“It was Logan’s.” 

“They’re one of my favorites.” 

Kurt laughs, sinking down into the bed and closing his eyes. “I can’t imagine you rocking out.” 

He thinks Blaine answers him. He also thinks he pulls the covers up to his shoulders, and kisses his cheek too, but then sleep pulls him under. 

“Kurt.” 

He wakes slowly, surprised to find bright sunlight streaming in through his window. “Huh?”

Sitting, he rubs his eyes and squints over to where Blaine stands at the foot of the bed, dressed immaculately in a blue suit. 

“I have to go,” he says, looking at the floor. 

“You’re leaving? I’m so sorry. I just haven’t had much sleep and...”

“It’s fine. I didn’t want to wake you. You needed to rest. I just wanted to say...Uh... This place is yours,” he says awkwardly. “For the rest of your time in London. The car too, so just call down if you want to go anywhere.” 

“Blaine?”

He looks up sharply, and Kurt can see a sadness in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Come sit here.” 

Blaine doesn’t argue, but he sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. Undeterred, Kurt kneels next to him, and brings his hand to his cheek, turning his face so they’re eye to eye. “Thank you.” He keeps his eyes fixed on Blaine’s, and slowly leans in, brushing their lips together. 

Blaine’s hand comes up, his fingers closing around Kurt’s wrist. “You don’t have to. This isn’t what I’m expecting in return.” 

“I know.” 

His certainty seems enough for Blaine, and he closes his eyes, framing Kurt’s face with his hands, and tenderly kissing him. It's like a dam bursts for Kurt and he breathes in sharply, leaning back onto the pillows and encouraging Blaine on top of him. The second he feels his solid, comforting weight pressing him into the bed, he opens his mouth wider, whimpering when Blaine takes full advantage and kisses him deeply, running his tongue into his mouth. 

He directs the kiss entirely; Kurt is totally at his mercy but he doesn't mind one bit. In fact, he relishes the moment, as his body seems to come alive, just from the touch of his lips. He slides one leg up, hooking it around the back of Blaine’s thigh to draw him closer, hoping that this kiss will never end, but it does. 

Blaine pulls back, breathing hard, his eyes dark with lust. “Kurt,” he groans, his voice rough with want. “Why d’you have to do this to me now, when I've got a plane to catch?” 

Kurt grins, pleased with Blaine’s dishevelment. He slides up against the pillows, biting his lip in pleasure. “Hmm, well, maybe you'll just have to take me out again when I get back to New York.” 

“I'd like that,” Blaine admits. “Can I call you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. I'll take another of those kisses before I go.” He grins wickedly, grabbing Kurt behind the knees and pulling him down the bed, making him yelp in surprise. This time, their kiss is hard and dirty, both of them making the most of these precious few moments before they part. 

Kissing Blaine is every bit as erotic and sensual as Kurt thought it would be. His senses are filled with the man as he bites down on Kurt's lip before briefly sucking it into his mouth, letting it go to taste with his tongue over and over again. Then he breaks away, kissing Kurt's cheek, down behind his ear and then scraping his teeth over the delicate skin of his neck before moving back to his lips once more. 

Kurt has never known a kiss like it. He keeps one hand holding tight to the lapel of Blaine's jacket, needing him close. The other he slides into his thick hair, anchoring him in place. He moans when Blaine's hand runs roughly down his side to grip his hip hard, but Blaine quickly swallows it, kissing him with even more ferocity. 

The phone in the sitting room gives three rings, and it's followed by a knock on the door, making Blaine groan, briefly resting his head against Kurt's neck and kissing there softly. “Damn,” he murmurs. “That's the car.” 

He sits. His hair is wild, his lips wet and red, his shirt rumpled. Kurt feels an intense thrill to know he did that to him, he made Blaine lose his demeanour, made him want, made him feel. 

“I'll call you.” 

He rights his appearance in the mirror, all hints of an intense, hot make out session disappearing as his armour comes firmly back into place. “Good luck with the rest of the run. Don't forget to call if you need anything.” He doesn't even look at Kurt, but walks quickly from the room and pulls open the door to the suite. 

“Blaine!” 

He pauses in the open doorway, looking back, and Kurt runs. Though he is undoubtedly surprised, Blaine holds his arms out and catches Kurt, holding him tight, and takes the lingering, tender kiss he offers. “Thank you for everything.” 

“Anytime.”


	6. Chapter 6

Feeling tired and so weary that his bones ache, Kurt trudges through arrivals, pulling two heavy suitcases and carrying a massive bag filled with the clothes Blaine had bought him. He can't help but smile at the sight of the sign, welcoming people to New York, and he knows Anna and Meredith will be waiting at home, especially since he'd hinted that he had something to tell them. 

He walks past the crowds of people waiting to greet their friends and family, warmed by the sight of an older man embracing his daughter, and three small children running to greet their granny. Then he does a double take. Standing at the end of the line, waiting patiently, is Blaine. 

Kurt wants to run to him, but his massive amount of luggage prevents him from doing so and in a way he's glad, since it gives them a long period of eye contact as Kurt slowly walks forward. 

“Welcome home, brat.” 

“Hey. This is a surprise.” 

Blaine shrugs, takes Kurt's bag and sets it on the floor. “I missed you,” he admits, and then he reaches out, tilting his face up to kiss him softly on the lips. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” 

“Nowhere. I'll give you a ride home. I expect you're tired.” 

He carries Kurt's bag, and pulls one of the suitcases, leading them outside to where a town car sits in a no parking zone. The driver rushes around, loading the bags into the trunk while Blaine holds the door open for Kurt to slide into the plush cream colored interior. 

“Where do you live?” 

“Mapleton,” he mutters, embarrassed. “You don't need to take me there.” 

“Yes I do. And don't worry about where you live. Remember where I started.” 

“I'd rather not. It still makes me sad.” 

Blaine says nothing, but he rests his hand on Kurt's thigh instead, and that's enough. 

“I missed you too,” Kurt says once they're out into the early evening traffic. 

“You didn't call.” 

“Neither did you.” 

“I text to ask for your flight details.” 

“Wow. One text asking when I got back.” 

“You said to call about taking you out when you got back from New York!” 

“Still thought you'd have called.” 

“And I thought you'd have called, so I guess we’re even.” 

“I guess so.” There is a long silence then, until Kurt rests his hand over Blaine’s and squeezes gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Kiss me, then.” 

Kurt grins, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and drawing him into a long, deep kiss. When they part, Blaine keeps his eyes closed for a moment, pressing their foreheads together. “I needed that.” 

“Why? Are you not okay?”

“I’m fine. I just...” He sits straighter, embarrassed, and looks out of the window instead. Kurt thinks that the only reason he needed that kiss was because he’s missed him so much, but he doesn’t push it, just sits quietly until the car pulls up outside his building. 

“Do you want to come up?”

“What for?”

“No reason, just to hang out, maybe?” 

“I’m good.” 

“Okay.” He tries for nonchalance but it comes out as pissed off and both him and Blaine know it. 

“Don’t start with me. I came to meet you, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Don’t be a brat, Kurt. Go get some sleep. I’ll call you sometime.” 

“Fine.” 

His good mood killed, Kurt snatches his bags from the driver and struggles into his building alone, taking a moment to compose himself before the inevitable hysterics from Anna and Meredith upon his return. 

“Oh my GOD!” Anna shrieks as soon as the door opens. She vaults over the back of the couch and throws herself into Kurt's arms, squeezing him tight. “Meredith said you'd be here at seven, and I said six. I win!” She squeezes him again, kissing his cheek. “Meredith!” She bellows directly into his ear. “Kurt's here! I win!” 

“Whatever,” Meredith drawls, emerging from her room. “I still win, because I'm better.” Wrapping her arms around Kurt, she hugs him, kisses his cheek, and then holds him at arm's length to study his face. “Okay. Who are you fucking?” 

“What? No one!” he cries, but his face burns under the intensity of her gaze and Anna squeals. 

“You've met a boy!” 

“I have not. Really.” He falls onto the couch. “But I think I've met a man.” 

“Tell us. Now,” Meredith demands, and his suitcases stand abandoned in favor of curling up on the couch and spilling every detail. He starts with arriving in London, what he had thought of the city, and the crappy apartment he had been put in, and then he moves on. 

“So Blaine Anderson was in London,” he says casually, slapping Meredith’s thigh when she hisses. “He uh...he took me for dinner.” 

“He what?” the girls scream in unison, and after snapping at them to be quiet, he tells them the whole story. 

“Let me get this entirely right,” Anna says when he's done. “The critic guy you hate, and who hates you, paid for you to spend three weeks in the suite of a top London hotel, bought you a whole heap of designer clothes, and made out with you?” 

“Um...yeah.” 

“And he showed up at the airport, only to tell you you're a brat, and he’ll call you sometime?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you're insanely attracted to him, which makes you mad, and you love and hate spending time with him, all at once?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well damn, Kurt, you have finally rendered me speechless,” Meredith declares, while Anna gives a low whistle. “Do you think he’ll call?” 

“I don't know.” Kurt shrugs. “If he doesn't, I'm cool with that. We had a moment of fun, and now it's done. Time to move on.” 

But Kurt is entirely not cool with that, and though he'd never admit it, he wishes that Blaine had held him the way Anna and Meredith had when he'd returned. He wishes he'd agreed to come inside, even if it was just to sit on the couch and drink tea. Not for the first time, the thought that he likes Blaine a lot more than he loathes him, makes itself known. 

Blaine calls at six the next morning, and Kurt does not welcome it. “I was asleep!” 

“Really? I thought you'd be awake because of the time difference.” 

“I'm exhausted.” 

“Oh.” Blaine breathes hard. “Listen, yesterday, I think I was rude.” 

“You're always rude.”

“Yeah.” He breathes again. 

“Blaine, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Working out.” 

“Thank god.” Kurt laughs, falling back on the bed. “I thought you were pulling a Frank.” 

“Is that an innuendo?....Oh! Frank as in your sleazy director.” 

“Yes!” Kurt laughs louder when Blaine joins in. “It wasn't a euphemism for masturbation, but I still wondered if you were masturbating, if you get me.” 

“Why the hell would I call you up to apologize while I was jacking off?” 

Kurt can hear his grin, and it warms him. “I don't know!” 

“You dirty boy.” 

“Say that again.” 

“Kurt! Now who's pulling a Frank?” 

They laugh for a long time, until Kurt sighs. “I like it when you're like this.” 

“Hot, sweaty, and half-naked?” 

“Are you?” 

“I am,” he confirms. “But I got what you meant, and ditto. See me today.” 

“Blaine.” 

“Sorry.” Heeding the warning in Kurt's voice, he tries again. “Please can I see you today?” 

“Yes.” 

“You could've said yes the first time.” 

“You're such a charmer.” 

He laughs, gradually getting more out of breath. “Treadmill,” he explains. “I'll pick you up in an hour.” 

“You will not! That'll be like....seven in the damn morning.” 

“Suit yourself. I'll be there at eight, then.” 

Secretly, Kurt quite likes the way Blaine is so direct and forthright about wanting to see him. What he doesn't like, is the panic that now ensues over what to wear. He'd like to text him and see where they're going, but eventually he figures that Blaine will be in a suit whatever happens, so he settles on the outfit he'd bought him in London, because he knows he likes it. 

He escapes the apartment without waking the girls, which he's glad about. He knows they'd only get giddy over the arrival of the town car anyway. 

“Do you ever drive anywhere yourself?” he asks as soon as he's inside. 

“Good morning to you too. And no, I don't.” 

“You should.” 

“Why? I haven't got any need to. Have you eaten?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Okay.” 

As if that's some command, the car pulls away, and Kurt settles back to look out of the window. 

“The uh....the clothes look good,” Blaine says quietly.

“Thank you. I was hoping you'd notice.” 

“I always notice. With you, I mean. I always notice what you're wearing, because you always look incredible.” 

Kurt looks across at him, raising one eyebrow. “Even in my cheap clothes?” 

Blaine smiles. “Even then.” 

Liking the way Blaine seems so sweetly shy when it comes to compliments, Kurt decides to try a new tactic, and open up a little more himself, hoping it will encourage Blaine to do the same. “I was really happy that you called.” 

“You were not!” he scoffs. “You yelled at me.” 

“I mean after that point,” Kurt corrects. “And I was kinda overwhelmed that you met me yesterday. That meant a lot.” 

“Good.” 

“When I asked you to come up... I wasn't....expecting anything. I just wanted you around.” 

“You needed to sleep.” 

“Why do you always presume to know what's best for me?” 

“I don't. I just.... I didn't want to follow you home when your roommates were no doubt waiting to see you, and you were tired out, and... I barely know you, and I certainly don't know them.”

“I didn't mean to make you feel awkward.” 

“You didn't, but I know you were upset that I declined. That makes me feel awkward.” 

“All I really want, is for you to kiss me again like you did the morning you left.” 

At this, Blaine swallows hard. He looks down at his hands, and then back up, keeping Kurt in a steady gaze. “I don't think I should. I'm sorry. If I'm honest, I've been agonising over this a lot. The fact is, I'm twenty years older than you, and I'm a horrible, horrible person. You'll end up hurt, and you don't deserve that, so as much as I enjoyed kissing you like that, and I really did, I don't think it's right for me to act that way with you.” 

Kurt takes his time to process all of this, and he's alarmed at the level of self-loathing Blaine hints at. “What if it's all that I want, though?” he asks, moving closer. “What then?” 

“Don't do this,” Blaine says, unable to tear his gaze away from Kurt's face. “Because I'm trying to do the right thing, but you....” 

“Say it.” 

“You're just....” Unable to finish, Blaine closes the gap between them. “I'm powerless to resist you,” he murmurs against his lips. “I know I should be stronger but...” 

“No. No, you shouldn't be, really. Kiss me, please. Please.” 

Then Blaine's mouth is on his, hot and demanding, making him feel weak as he slides his hands back into his hair. While the kiss is intense and sensual, it's not that which really gets Kurt going; it's the way Blaine suddenly pulls him into his lap, so he's sitting astride his thighs, and wraps his arms around him. He holds Kurt like he matters, like he never wants to let go, like he's keeping him safe, and it makes heat build up quickly between the two, until the car pulls to a stop and they part, both remembering that there's a driver sitting up front fully aware of what they're doing. 

“Um...” Kurt slides off, biting his lip as he glances at Blaine. 

“You'll be the death of me,” Blaine grouches, then he rights his hair and steps quickly from the car. 

He reappears on Kurt's side, pulling open the car door himself and offering his hand. “Breakfast.” 

Kurt looks up at the Plaza, shaking his head. “I'm not dressed for this.” 

“Then get undressed and I'll eat you instead.” 

Shocked, Kurt turns to Blaine with wide eyes. “What did you just say?” he shrieks, but Blaine just laughs and, keeping a hold of his hand, leads him into the hotel. 

“That was a joke.” 

“I got that. But you know what?” he tugs Blaine to a halt in the middle of the foyer and kisses his cheek. “This isn't a joke. I'm an adult, Blaine. Twenty years makes no difference to me. I think you're...ridiculously hot, and you kinda make me weak at the knees.” He laughs, embarrassed. “You know what else? Your family might not accept you, but I happen to think you're really quite something so please, kiss me all you want, because I want it too.” 

Stunned, Blaine gives a crisp nod, keeping his eyes downcast. “Thank you.” 

“Welcome. Now buy me breakfast, I'm starving.” 

“Sure.” They walk to the restaurant together and while they wait to be seated, Blaine leans in close, sliding an arm around Kurt's waist. “Is this okay, or too weird?” 

“It's very okay,” Kurt says, pressing closer to his side. 

They're led to a table, but Blaine takes one look at it, then glares at the waiter. “I don't think so, do you? Find something better.” 

“Blaine!” Embarrassed, Kurt tries to smile at the waiter as they're led to another spot. “That table was fine.” 

“It wasn't. This will do,” he informs him, gesturing to a chair. “Move my seat next to him,” Blaine orders, and the waiter obliges, then retreats without a word. 

“Blaine, you can't speak to people like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like they're put on this earth to do your bidding.” 

“He's a waiter.” 

“He's a person. You know, that day you came in the shop, you made me feel worthless.” 

“I apologized for that.” 

“I know, but it still hurt. That waiter was following the seating chart on the screen, which tells him what order to fill the tables in. It's not his fault.” 

“I dine here often. They should know where I like to be seated.” 

“You know, I'm going to the coffee shop this afternoon, to see if they're able to hire me again. What will you think of me then?” 

“Don't be stupid. This isn't anything about you, or your line of work.” 

“But it is,” Kurt insists; “Because I don't want to worry, or feel ashamed.... I don't want you to feel ashamed of me. You've had tough times, Blaine. Don't block all that from your memory just because you have money at your disposal. No one likes an asshole.” 

“Are you calling me an asshole?” 

“No...I just....” Kurt stops. He knows Blaine understands his point, he's just being stubborn and refusing to acknowledge it. “I'm getting pancakes.” 

They order, wait for their food, and eat, in silence. Finally, Blaine throws his napkin down and nods to the anxious waiter, who hurries over to clear their plates. “Apologies if I came off as rude, earlier,” Blaine tells him awkwardly. “I don't know what I was thinking.” 

“Perfectly okay, sir,” the amazed young man says quietly. 

“It's not, but it's very kind of you to be so gracious. Thank you.” 

The waiter nods, gathers the plates and leaves, while Kurt reaches out, covering Blaine's hand with his own. “That was lovely of you.” 

“I only did it so you'll kiss me again.” 

Kurt laughs, flirtatiously resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Oh yeah? You like that, do you?” 

“You know I do. Now come on.” 

They go back to the car, which travels slowly through the busy morning traffic, giving them both time to surreptitiously study the other one, until Blaine sighs and puts an arm around Kurt's shoulders, pulling him close. 

“Have you got any auditions lined up?” 

“Frank said...” 

“Don't you dare,” he snarls, and his fierce anger has Kurt quickly placing a hand on his thigh to reassure him. 

“No, no, I wouldn't. He's doing a show in Chicago, and offered me a role. I think he thought I'd take it as it's nearer to dad. Anyway. There's a revival of Planet America happening. I thought I might go up for that.” 

Blaine pulls a face. “Really? You're better than that.” 

“Well you never seem to think so.” 

“Don't start with that again.” 

“It's true!” 

“It is not. I told you, I think you have talent, I just don't think you know how to nurture it.” 

“The pay's really good.” 

“So? You don't do theatre for the pay, Kurt. You do it for the love of it. For the joy of creating art. I go and watch endless shows, some awful, some outstanding but each and every one gives me a chance to write about an art form that I love. The money doesn't matter.” 

“Not to you it doesn't, because you have money,” Kurt explains. “I have to make rent, and eat, and be able to fly back to dad and granny... I need money.” 

“There must be other shows.” 

“Not really. Not right now. There's a play... Whiskey and the Rye, but that's only a two hander, and I don't think I'd stand much chance.” 

“You would! See, that's exactly the type of roles you should be going for. Push yourself, step outside the boundaries you've created and embrace the unknown, Kurt. I know the play..the old guy with his son, right?” 

“Yeah, but it's set in the south so...”

“Who gives a damn about an accent? You can work on that. What matters is that you have your relationship with your own dad to draw on here. I'm telling you, you should give it a shot. Call your agent and have her book you an audition.” 

“I'll think about it.” 

“Stubborn brat.”

Kurt smiles, wondering when he came to think of the word brat as an affectionate pet name. He's perfectly content, despite the traffic and their heated discussion over his career. Sitting in the back of the car, with Blaine’s arm around him, is the only place he wants to be right now. 

“Do you work in an office, or at home?” 

“Home. I don't like people.” 

“And where is home?” 

“Upper West Side.” 

“Nice. Are we going there now?” 

“No. I told you, I'm powerless to resist your charms. If I take you home who knows what will happen?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Kurt.” A hint of annoyance in his voice, Blaine closes his eyes for a moment. “I feel like we barely know each other, still. I don't want to rush into anything, okay?” 

“Okay.” He shrugs, feeling a little deflated. “I just...” 

“I know, trust me.” 

But Kurt can't stay mad for long, not when they arrive at a helicopter launch pad and Blaine takes him on an aerial tour of Manhattan. Letting go completely, he screams his delight as they climb and climb, and Blaine seems to embrace his excitement, smiling broadly and pointing out landmarks as they pass. 

“Oh hey, you'll see my place,” Blaine says, leaning across Kurt to point to a large building overlooking the river. “Riverside Drive.” 

“Beats Mapleton.” 

“Ah, but it doesn't, because Mapleton has you.” 

Kurt turns back to look at Blaine, to find his brown eyes shining with sincerity. “I really like spending time with you, Kurt,” he says above the noise of the engine. Kurt beams, and makes to kiss him, but their headsets get in the way and in the end he settles for kissing his jaw, laughing all the while. 

“My legs feel like jelly,” he says when they land. “But that was incredible. Best date ever. Oh... I don't mean it was a date. I just mean...” 

“It was a date,” Blaine says, taking hold of both his hands. “And I'm glad you enjoyed it. I like it when I can make you smile. But then, I also like it when you get angry at me too, so I don't know what that says about me, really.” 

“That you respect my sharp mind and intelligent conversation?” 

“Hmm. I do.” Blaine leans in, kissing softly behind his ear. “But I also respect your amazing eyes,” he whispers. “Your smile... Everything about you makes me want you more and more.” 

They kiss then, right there, on the waterfront, with tourists milling around them and the noise of another helicopter taking off. They kiss deeply and passionately, and Kurt swoons once more.


	7. Chapter 7

For the next three weeks, Blaine and Kurt continue to date. In essence this is fine; Kurt returns to work at the coffee shop and Blaine is often tied up in the evening watching shows, but they meet for lunch, or an early dinner, and though they bicker and argue about every little thing imaginable, they both still enjoy being together. 

The only problem for Kurt, is that he wishes for a whole lot more. Blaine is attentive and generous, lavishing huge amounts of money on their dates, including dinner on a private boat, lunch at the top of the Rockefeller center and even another shopping trip, but the nearest they get to having any privacy is in the back of the chauffeured town car, and Kurt is convinced that Blaine's drivers hate him getting in the car because they always end up making out. 

Kurt doesn't audition for the Planet America revival. He does, however, audition for three other shows, none of which are successful. Blaine keeps bringing up the play, The Whiskey and the Rye, encouraging Kurt to try for it. At least, he would say it's encouraging, while Kurt would call it pushing. 

In the end, he gives in, and to his surprise, he lands an audition. He tries not to get his hopes up, but the chance to land a lead role in a play that will run at one of the most notable off-Broadway theatres is almost too much to bear. He calls his dad, in a frenzy of excitement, and also his granny. Anna and Meredith both back him one hundred per cent, but Blaine is his biggest champion of all, particularly when he gets a callback. 

“It's yours, it has to be,” he tells Kurt over lunch the day of the callback. “See? I told you it's all about applying your talent correctly. And I'll bet you feel better about it, right? Knowing you've pushed yourself and it's paid off?” 

Kurt looks down at his plate, then his whole face breaks out in a massive grin and he looks up, affectionately rubbing his foot against his ankle. “I do, yes. You were right, and that's the only time you'll hear me say it, but thank you for being so obnoxious and forceful, I really do appreciate it.” 

Blaine smiles smugly. “You're welcome.” 

He insists on walking Kurt to the callback, and then he lingers in a cafe across the road until he's done. But Kurt emerges from the theatre and walks swiftly away, leaving Blaine to run down the street after him, a fact which annoys him intensely. 

“What the fuck?” 

“I didn't get it!” Kurt cries, his head down as he keeps walking. “I got down to the final three, and one guy got the part, the other got the understudy, and I got fuck all.” 

“Kurt...” 

“Don't touch me!” he roars when Blaine reaches out. He stops, breathing hard, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I don't know why you're so cruel, but it really hurts so just quit, please.” 

Stunned, Blaine takes a small step backwards. “What?” 

“You thought it'd be funny, right? To put me forward for a role that you knew I had no chance of getting? Did you think I'd learn a lesson in humility? It'd bring me down a peg or two? Well congratulations, Blaine, because you made me feel like shit.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” he cries. “I did no such thing! I encouraged you to push yourself and you did so. You got to the final three, Kurt. That's not having no chance, that's doing really well.” 

“But not well enough!” he cries angrily. “So no doubt you'll now feel exceptionally smug for proving all your criticisms of me were right. You win, okay? I'm a shit actor, you're an amazing critic, and you win.” 

“I'm...” Blaine shakes his head. “I'm not even going to listen to any more of this. Call me when you're old enough to play with the big boys.” 

He walks away, and Kurt immediately feels oddly deflated and also flooded with guilt, but it's his anger and hurt that win out in the end and he goes home alone to sit and brood. Of course, he has to call his dad and let him know the outcome, but his dad doesn't yet know that he's dating a man twenty years his senior, and it doesn't seem the right time to mention it, so he waits until Meredith returns home to reveal all that had taken place after the failed audition.

“You know you've been a jerk, don't you?” 

“Yes. Ugh.” 

“I mean, I'm not a nice person, but what you said to him was harsh, even by my standards.” 

“Yes, okay, thank you. What do I do?” 

“You know where he lives?” 

“No.” 

“Then all you can do is call him, and hope he answers. You've gotta grovel, Kurt. Big time.” 

Unsurprisingly, Blaine is very terse when he answers. “What do you want?” 

“To apologize.” 

“I'm listening.” 

“I'm really sorry. You always call me a brat but today I was one. I was upset, and embarrassed, because I'd told everyone about the audition, and I knew I had to then tell them all I didn't get it...and I just felt stupid and dumb and then I knew you were waiting... I think knowing you wanted me to get the part kinda made it even harder for me.” 

“Oh what, so I'm not allowed to want good things for you?” 

“That's not what I mean. I just didn't want to let you down, that's all. You always seem so much more refined than me, so much more sophisticated, like you've really got your shit together, and then I'm just a mess.... I felt silly, and I took it all out on you when all I really wanted to do was to have you hold me while I cried.” 

“You could've done that,” Blaine says softly. “I wouldn't have minded.” 

“You never hold me though.” 

“I do!” 

“You don't. We make out, and it sends us both crazy, you sometimes put an arm around me as we’re leaving a restaurant, but we never cuddle.” 

“Cuddle?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So pretty much anything I do isn't good enough.” 

“That's not what I said.”

“I don't know what you want, Kurt. I take you out, I spend time with you...” 

“I want to be alone with you,” he says quickly. “Not even for anything to happen, just so I can be in your arms, that's all.” 

“Get a cab, then. I'll pay.” 

“Huh?” 

“Come on, it's late already and I've still got work to do. Seven hundred Riverside Drive.” 

The cab pulls up outside Blaine's building and the door is immediately pulled open by a man wearing a smart uniform. “Good evening, Mr Hummel,” he says politely. “Go on up, Mr Anderson is waiting. I'll handle the fare.” 

“Oh. Uh...” 

The doorman just nods his head toward the entrance, so Kurt takes the hint and goes inside, staring in awe at a large foyer with a double marble staircase going up, and an elevator waiting with the doors open. 

“This way, Mr Hummel.” 

He jumps at the sound of the elevator operative, and quickly hurries over. 

“Penthouse,” she explains, and Kurt rolls his eyes. 

“Of course.” 

The doors open almost silently and then Kurt is alone in a hallway with only a large dark wood door in front of him. Feeling like he's in some kind of dream, he knocks, and after some time, Blaine opens the door. 

He's just in his dress shirt again, but this time there's no sign of glasses. Still, it's an intimate look at a man who's normally so formal, especially since he's not wearing any socks or shoes. Kurt realizes this is Blaine's sanctuary, his personal space, and he's finally letting him in. 

“Are you going to stand there all night, or what?” he grouches, and Kurt quickly scurries inside. 

“Oh my God,” he breathes, for surely he's never seen such an incredible space. 

“This is the hallway,” Blaine says, sounding bored of his enthusiasm. 

“It's huge. My whole place would fit in here and then some.” 

The hallway is all white, and seems to extend off to the right, around a corner and out of sight. Kurt can see doors, he guesses to the bedrooms and bathrooms, since Blaine leads him to the left, and into an enormous living room. 

It's tastefully decorated, with cream colored walls and dark wood floors. There's two enormous couches, a coffee table and an armchair and then, most striking of all, enormous floor to ceiling windows with views of dusk falling over the Hudson River. There's a terrace too, and when Kurt steps further into the room he can see the whole space extends right around into a dining area and a cherry wood kitchen with marble counters. 

“I don't know what to say,” Kurt whispers in awe. “This is magnificent.” 

Blaine just shrugs, and walks past him to the kitchen. “Have you eaten?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Wine, then?” 

“Sure.” 

Everything is awkward, and Blaine moves around the kitchen in silence, while Kurt carefully slips his shoes off, nearly groaning when his feet sink into a thick faun rug. “You're still angry, huh?” 

“No.” He finishes pouring the wine and leaves the glasses on the dining table to join him at the window. “I'm hurt.” 

“Hurt?” Kurt is flooded with guilt and he reaches out, gently laying a hand on his arm. “Oh no, Blaine, please...I'm sorry.” 

“I know you are, but you actually thought I'd set you up like that.” 

“I didn't. I just said a load of crap because I was hurting, that's all.” 

“Well don't,” he huffs. “I don't do people, Kurt, or being sociable. It's tough for me, but I want to see you, I like spending time with you, but if you push me away...” 

“I don't want to,” Kurt says quickly. 

“Right, then I'm going to say what I want to say, because I think you need to hear it. Look at me, please.” 

Kurt slowly drags his eyes upward to Blaine's, which reflect the lights from the terrace. 

“I was proud of you today,” he says sincerely. “I know it took courage for you to audition for that role, but you did it. You might not have been successful this time, but you will be in the future, and I don't want you to view this as a setback. As for what happened after... I like arguing with you, it brings me great joy. I like to wind you up, and I like it when you drive me crazy but then make me smile... And I think that's the point, really. Your words today didn't make me smile, and that's why they hurt. But you've said sorry, and that's good enough for me.” 

“You were proud of me?” 

“Very. Now come here.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you called me, whining about needing a fucking cuddle, that's why,” he barks, but he smiles, and holds Kurt tightly in his arms. 

Kurt sags against him, knowing that everything is now fine between them once more. He wraps his arms around Blaine's waist, and turns so that his lips just graze above his collar. “Thank you.” 

“Are we done? You can go.” 

“What?” 

“I'm messing with you.” He laughs, pulling back to kiss his lips. His touch is tender and sweet, as he lovingly holds Kurt's face in his hands. “So beautiful.” 

It's said so quietly, that Kurt is pretty sure he didn't mean for it to be uttered out loud, so he says nothing but draws him into another kiss instead, running his hands over his broad, strong back. “You have work to do, don't you?” he asks when Blaine moves to kiss along his jaw. 

“It can wait. Come sit with me.” He grabs their glasses and directs Kurt to the couch, tugging him around until they lie the length of it, with Kurt snugly nestled between his legs, resting back onto his chest. “Is this okay?” 

“This is more than okay,” Kurt says happily. 

“Good. I like it too.” 

They are content in their silence now. Music plays; Kurt assumes it's piped magically through the walls since he can't see any evidence of speakers, or any type of music player. They drink their wine slowly and then, when they're done, Blaine sets their glasses on the coffee table and lies down again, this time pulling Kurt in next to him, so his head rests on his chest. 

“I never lie on my couch,” he murmurs. “I never hold anyone, either. I told you you'd be the death of me.” 

“I'm turning you into a rebel,” Kurt teases. “Maybe one day you'll even wear a sweater instead of a suit.” 

“Not likely.” He runs his fingers up and down Kurt's spine, and kisses into his hair. “I think about you a lot.” 

“You do?” 

“Hmm.” 

Kurt waits and waits, but there's no further explanation offered. His fingers stop their trail and work under his sweater instead, tracing small circles just above the waistband of his pants. Kurt can't help the way his breath catches and his heart pounds. Blaine makes his whole body come alive just from this, the first touch of his hands underneath his clothing, the hint of wanting more. 

“S’nice.” 

“You sound sleepy,” Blaine notes. 

“Yeah. I guess I should get going soon.” 

“Stay, if you want to.” 

The touch of his fingertips forgotten, Kurt sits upright, looking down at him. “Really?” 

“Why not?” 

“I hadn't thought about it. I could... But I have work tomorrow.” 

“So take the car in the morning. Roy will drive you home, wait for you to change then take you to work.” 

“Anna and Meredith will freak.” 

“Are they your keepers?” 

“No, but...I don't know.” 

“Stay or don't stay, but make a decision either way.” 

“Do you want me to stay?” 

“What do you think?” 

“I don't know, do I? Maybe.... but then again, did you just offer to be polite?” 

Blaine sits, pushes Kurt back down onto the couch and then falls on top of him. “Stay,” he whispers into his ear. “I want you to.” 

His lips are hot and demanding, and Kurt responds eagerly, wrapping his arms about his neck and rising up to meet him. At this, Blaine pulls back quickly. He's already breathing hard, but his fingers are soft as they gently graze Kurt's cheek and he smiles down at him. 

“I'm gonna ask this one more time... Are you sure this is what you want? I mean, I know we like spending time together, but I don't want you to feel like you have to go further. I know I'm like...ridiculously old, and grumpy. I don't want you to think you need to satisfy me in some way, just to stay on my good side.” 

“Blaine, why would I ever think that?” He sits, reaching out to play with the hair at the base of his neck. “I want this, very much. I want you. I've been desperate just to be alone with you for so long. I know you're trying to be a gentleman here but really, I'm an adult, capable of making adult decisions, and I really wouldn't let myself get into a situation like this if I felt uncomfortable.” 

“I'm not like Frank.” 

“Trust me, I know.” He smiles, biting his lip, his eyes raking up and down Blaine's body. “You're way, way hotter for a start.” 

Blaine rolls his eyes. “You’re so shallow.” But he gets to his feet and, taking Kurt’s hand in his, leads him down the long hallway to some double doors. 

“Is this your room?”

“No, it’s the guest room. What do you think?”

He laughs to himself, pushing open the doors and ushering Kurt inside, who just stands and stares for a moment. The enormous bed is on the left-hand side, giving an amazing view of the Hudson along the back wall, which is made entirely of glass. The curtains, bedding and carpet are all cream, and aside from two mahogany nightstands which match the bed, there is no other furniture in the room. 

Everything is hidden behind doors; there’s no hint that anyone inhabits the place and it’s as though they were standing in a luxury hotel room. Kurt finds it impressive, yet also sad when he realizes that although Blaine might live here, it’s really not a home. 

He’s just wondering what to say when out of nowhere, the lights dim and the curtains close. Magic again, Kurt assumes. He turns to see Blaine watching him, a small smile on his face as he steps closer. 

This time, Kurt falls eagerly into the kiss, and it is he who backs Blaine toward the bed, still kissing him hard as they fall onto the covers. It’s an empowering feeling, to have Blaine underneath him when he always seems so dominant, and he likes it. 

He likes the way Blaine’s breath catches when he bites lightly on his lip. He likes the unmistakable moan, quickly cut short, that he makes when Kurt tugs on his hair. He likes Blaine’s hands, moving up and under his sweater until he forces Kurt upright so he can pull it over his head. 

Blaine never says a word, but his eyes seem full of approval when, with Kurt now sitting astride him, he leans in, kissing along his collarbone before biting down into the soft skin of his neck. 

Shaking with anticipation, Kurt fumbles with the buttons on Blaine’s shirt. He manages two, before Blaine stops kissing him and starts undressing himself, instead. 

“Hey! Let me do it.”

“It’s okay.”

“I want to.”

Blaine stops, surprised. “Why?”

“Because it's....like unwrapping a gift,” Kurt declares happily. Batting Blaine’s fingers out of the way, he carries on, more confident this time, mainly because he can sense that Blaine is unsettled by this turn of events, and he becomes determined to make him lose his cool. 

Tenderly he nudges him back down again, kissing each new bit of flesh as it's exposed. He has a smattering of dark hair across his chest, tapering off into a line that leads lower. Kurt follows this, trying not groan in satisfaction when he pushes his shirt completely open, and realizes Blaine isn’t only fit, but amazingly sculpted and toned, each and every ab pronounced to utter perfection. 

He kisses each one and then looks up, grinning when he notices Blaine propped up on his elbows, watching him. 

“Get up here.”

Kurt is surprised at how rough, how dirty his voice is. He’s breathing hard, and the second Kurt is by his lips he flips them, grinding down against him, letting him feel his hardness. 

His resolve weakening, Kurt opens his legs and throws his head back with a loud moan. Blaine is all over him; kissing, biting, sucking marks onto his neck, chest, hips, and he keeps moving lower, making quick work of his belt buckle and pants, until he’s left in just his underwear. 

“You always wear these?” Blaine asks, looking down at his tight gray boxer briefs. 

“Not just this pair, no.”

“Funny.” He sticks his tongue out, something that makes him look impossibly young, and then he kneels between Kurt’s legs, firmly gripping his thighs. “I like them. I like...um...you,” he says, gesturing up and down his body. 

Embarrassed by his admittance, he leans down, hiding his face in order to kiss along the waistband of Kurt’s shorts, running his hand over his bulge. 

“Oh...fuck,” Kurt pants, and his desperate arousal only becomes even more evident when Blaine pulls his underwear off, and takes him into his mouth. 

Kurt bites his lip, desperately trying to stifle the overwhelming urge to cry out, because Blaine, it seems, is an entirely silent lover. He also knows exactly what he’s doing, and suddenly Kurt finds his legs up on his shoulders as Blaine takes him deeper. 

Kurt wants to slow him down. He’s aware that Blaine is still in his pants and apart from kissing his chest, he’s had no chance to explore his body, or reciprocate in any way. Though it’s undeniably very pleasurable indeed, this is not how he thought their lovemaking would be. 

He can feel his orgasm approaching and, in a herculean effort, he taps the side of Blaine’s head. “Stop a moment.” 

“Huh?” Blaine stops immediately, kneeling up. “Not good?”

“So good but...just come here, a minute. Just be with me.” 

“Be with....what does that even mean?”

Kurt kneels opposite, softly caressing the back of his neck. “It means, Blaine, that I really like you, and this is about me wanting to be with you. Not anyone. You. I want to cherish this, between us. I want to feel that connection with you.” 

Blaine looks down at the bed for a moment, then brings his hands to Kurt’s knees. “This will sound incredibly self-pitying, but I don’t think anyone’s ever wanted that before.” 

“Well I do...and I’m a demanding brat, right?” 

At this, Blaine looks up and smiles. “You really are. I think it’s entirely evident just how much I loathe you.” 

“It is. Now get naked.” 

“See?” Blaine quickly obliges and then pulls Kurt tight into his arms. “So demanding.” 

His voice is gruff, but he’s happy, and Kurt is glad he stopped him before, because now everything is so much better. They kiss slowly, hands roaming, legs entwining. Every now and then, Blaine pulls back, looks Kurt right in the eye and smiles softly. 

It’s easily apparent just how much he’s enjoying this, and when Blaine brings one hand up to his hip, Kurt is surprised to find his touch is shaky. He looks deep into his eyes as his hand smoothes over his skin, smiling when Kurt does the same. 

Blaine's hand wraps around him, and again, he waits for Kurt to reciprocate. They move slowly, and though Kurt tries to keep the heated eye contact, he has to look down, just to see their hands knocking together, and the sight of Blaine's thick cock in his hand. 

“Oh Jesus,” he moans, quickening his pace. 

“Hold up.” Blaine stops him, leaning over to grab lube from the nightstand. “Told you I think of you,” he quips, but Kurt gives a wanton moan, falling onto his back. 

“That is insanely hot.” 

Blaine laughs quietly, pulling Kurt back onto his side and pouring lube into his palm. He never speaks, but Kurt knows he's as close to the edge as he is, because the fingers of one hand dig hard into his shoulder, as his other hand begins a fast pace. 

Kurt's not sure if he should warn Blaine that he's about to come; somewhere in the back of his mind the thought that these are probably insanely expensive bed sheets occurs to him, but then Blaine pulls him closer, and bites hard into his shoulder with a muffled groan. 

The second Kurt feels wetness over his hand, he lets go, throwing his head back for Blaine's lips to travel there, kissing him tenderly as he shudders then grins. “I....” 

“You want to shower? I'll get right on it.” 

“Hey?” Kurt's still dazed, riding out waves of pleasure. “No,” he says when Blaine's words hit home. “C’mere.” 

He pulls him close, perhaps a touch forcefully, but he can tell Blaine is really rather pleased from the way he brings both of his hands to the back of Kurt's head and kisses his eyelids, cheeks and then his lips. 

“I know I'll need to shower, eventually,” Kurt whispers, letting his fingers graze over his rough jawline. “But I really like cuddles.” 

Blaine rolls his eyes affectionately and obliges, wrapping Kurt in his arms and kissing his forehead. “You and your damn cuddles.” 

They stay that way so long, that eventually they're too tired to move to the bathroom, and Blaine just pulls back the covers instead, ushers Kurt under, and then holds him all night long.


	8. Chapter 8

“Kurt! I'm not going to tell you again! Get your ass out of bed. You'll be late.” 

Reluctantly, Kurt yawns and stretches, keeping his eyes closed as long as possible. “Your bed is like a cloud,” he murmurs happily. “And you cuddle real good.” 

“Hmm. Whatever. Coffee’s there.” 

Kurt sits, just in time to see Blaine walk back out of the bedroom. He's pleased to note he's just in a pair of training shorts, his chest bare- a sign that he's letting his guard down, maybe. 

He returns, handing Kurt a bowl of fresh fruit, yogurt and granola, and then he sits on the bed with his own. “You're so lazy.” 

“No...you keep providing me with beds that are too comfy. What time is it, anyway?” 

“Six thirty.” 

“Say what? No wonder I'm not awake! That's insane.” 

Blaine laughs. “I've been up since five. Worked out.” 

“You need to get laid more often.” 

Blaine laughs loudly, looks down at his bowl and then back up. “You offering?” 

“Maybe.” 

They eat together, looking out at the early morning mist on the river, and though Kurt knows there's a long way to go, he also can't remember ever feeling this content since Logan died. 

“Blaine, are you free Sunday?” 

“Yes, why?” 

“I've got the day off, and I wondered if I could take you out?” 

“Sure. Where do you want to go? I can make a reservation at the Palm Court?” 

“Blaine, you misheard me,” Kurt says calmly. “I want to take you out.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Because you give me the most amazing dates....but I'd like to return the favor and take you somewhere I enjoy. Show you another side of life, if you will.” 

“Ugh.” He looks most annoyed, and he broods as he drinks his coffee, then huffs loudly and stands. “If you must.” 

“Great.” Kurt grins brightly. “Come to my place at ten.” 

“It's an all day thing?” 

“It is.” 

“How wonderful,” he grouches, gathering their bowls. “If I hate it, I'll never forgive you.” 

“You won't.” 

“I'd better not, now go take a shower or you'll be late for work.” 

Kurt is pretty sure he looks completely crazy as he heads to the bathroom and sure enough, when he catches sight of himself in the large mirror, he is grinning like a madman. 

The bathroom is all black marble and chrome, which must be a pain to keep clean, but somehow, Kurt doubts Blaine ever actually does his own cleaning. The shower is an enormous walk in affair, with complicated looking jets positioned all over and a control panel that looks like a spaceship launchpad. 

“Blaine, how do I work this thing?” 

“Push the green button.” 

So Kurt steps inside, pushes the button, and then screams. “I'm being attacked!” he yells as strong jets of water pummel him from all sides. “Blaine, your shower is violating me!” 

Blaine appears, laughing loudly at the sight of Kurt cowering in a corner. “Just press the blue button and the side ones will go off.” 

“I'm still sleeping,” Kurt moans as he does so. “That was not nice.” 

Suddenly Blaine is there with him, kissing his neck as water runs over them both. “Let me wake you up.” 

Kurt spins in his arms, covers his mouth with his own, and they pleasure each other once more before he very reluctantly leaves for work. 

Anna and Meredith freak out to see Kurt pulling up in a chauffeured town car, darting inside to change before leaving again. Of course, when he returns from his shift they are waiting to quiz him about all that had taken place the night before. 

“Is he a good lover?” Meredith asks, making Anna stick her fingers in her ears. “I'll bet he is. He looks like he would be.” 

“I think he will be incredible,” Kurt says smugly, then he frowns. “But he's holding back. I get the impression he's never really cherished sex, you know? There's no romance there.” 

“The guy continually tells you he hates you, and he calls you an annoying brat,” Anna huffs. “I'd say he wouldn't have the first clue about romance.” 

“He doesn't hate me,” Kurt says confidently. “But no, he wouldn't know romance if it slapped him in the face. Still...guys can change.” 

“Not guys like Blaine Anderson,” Anna says knowingly. “They don't change at all.” 

Three days later, and Blaine obligingly turns up outside Kurt's building at ten. He doesn't ring the buzzer, just waits, which frustrates Kurt somewhat since he knows he's expecting him to rush downstairs to him. So he doesn't. He deliberately leaves him waiting ten minutes, then casually saunters outside into the spring sunshine. “Hey.” 

“You're late for your own date,” Blaine huffs. “Get in the car.” 

“Uh-uh. You can send Roy home. This is my date, my way, and I don't use chauffeured driven town cars to get around.” 

“Except when you've been with me all night.” 

“I'd been attacked by the shower. I needed to be taken care of.” 

“And I did just that.” Blaine grins smugly, then realizes Kurt is entirely serious about not using the car. “Oh fine,” he says angrily, and taps on the window, telling Roy to go home. 

It's only when he turns back that Kurt notices his clothes. Instead of the usual suit, Blaine is wearing navy pants, a red and gray plaid shirt, and a light gray woollen jacket. No tie, no stiff collar, and even his hair is more wavy than usual. Best of all though; he hasn't shaved, and Kurt's insides flutter when he imagines the feel of his stubble scratching over his skin. 

“You look wonderful,” he says sincerely, and Blaine looks down at his outfit and gives an embarrassed shrug. 

“I wasn't sure...but I figured you'll be taking me to some kind of slum, so....” 

Kurt laughs, unable to resist kissing his cheek. “Did you go shopping specially?” 

“No.” But both know that Kurt sees right through the lie. 

They walk to the subway, and though Blaine looks entirely horrified, he says nothing, even when someone spits at his feet as they walk past. 

Kurt leads him onto a train, but he won't sit. Instead, he stands in a corner, staring out into the black as Kurt wonders if he's pushed him too far out of his comfort zone this time. 

His mood only seems to worsen when they arrive at Coney Island. It's the busy opening weekend of the amusement park, and crowds rush past them, swarming between this ride and that. It's the perfect day for it; clear blue skies and plenty of warmth in the sun, but Kurt can't relax. 

“You hate it, don't you?” 

“No I don't hate it, I actually used to come here a lot as a boy.” 

“You did?” 

“My parents would bring us but then...I was twelve, and dad said I was too old.” He stops, giving Kurt a pointed look. “I'm not a kid.” 

“Far from it,” Kurt teases. “But that doesn't mean you can't have fun.” He dares to lean in, kissing his lips until he feels his pout give way to a smile. “Come on.” 

They head to a ticket booth and from there, Kurt leads an extremely reluctant Blaine over to the flyer. “This is so great.” 

“That looks....quite high,” he says, almost gulping in fear. “I remember this one. But I never went on it.” 

“Well now is a good time to try.” 

But Kurt wonders if he'll regret his persuasion when Blaine is seated next to him in the open chair. He looks completely white, and his knuckles grip the chains tightly as the ride starts to rise. 

“Look at me,” Kurt calls from next to him, his camera poised. 

“Fuck off.” 

“You'll be fine.” 

“I swear to God, Kurt, I'm gonna hurt you if this makes me throw up.” 

“Aw baby, I'll make it all better for you,” he says with a wink. Surprisingly, at this, Blaine smiles and shakes his head. 

“Baby. Honestly.” 

“Here we go, sugar!” 

“You're lucky I can't let go of these chains right now,” Blaine says. “Because....oh....shit.” 

The ride starts, and Kurt grins, the familiar feeling of utter freedom settling over him as the chair swings out to the side and the ride whirls around. Next to him, Blaine screws his eyes shut and refuses to open them again, no matter how many times Kurt tells him to. 

Though he feels slightly mean to have gotten Blaine on the ride to begin with, it's also quite intriguing to see him strongly affected by something. 

“You enjoying it?” 

“What the fuck do you think?” Blaine yells angrily. “Get me off!” 

“Not here, baby. There's families present.” 

“Call me baby again, Kurt, and I swear....” 

But then he shuts up. The ride slows and gradually descends, until they can hop out of the chair, only Blaine doesn't move, and it's up to Kurt to bring him to his feet. 

“I hate you,” Blaine groans as they walk away. “I really, really hate you.” 

But Kurt just laughs, and offers his hand, pleased when Blaine takes it and kisses the back of it. “I don't think you do, Mr Anderson.” 

“No,” he says with an enormous sigh. “I don't.” 

“Let's find a ride that's not too terrifying for you then. Mermaid Parade?” 

“Yes.” 

“I was joking.” 

“I don't care. I want to.” 

Like some switch has been flipped, Blaine tugs Kurt over to the ride and they cram together in a child sized boat which takes them around a gaudy, noisy, fake lagoon with models of mermaids. Nestled snugly between Blaine's legs, Kurt snaps selfies of the two of them as they go around. He's astounded that Blaine pulls goofy faces for a couple and then raises his sunglasses, kisses Kurt's cheek and instructs him to smile nicely. 

“Then send it to me. I can use it as my screensaver.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Read whatever you want into that. You will anyway.” 

Elated, Kurt lets Blaine help him from the ride and pull him eagerly over to the spinning teacups. From there, they go through every child-orientated ride and with each one, Blaine relaxes more and more, and Kurt gets happier and happier.

“Hot dogs?” he asks after nearly three hours of funfair rides. 

“Oh my god. I haven't eaten hot dogs in forever.” 

“No?”

“Yes!” 

They walk to the beach with their food, sitting side by side on the sand, watching the surf crash into the shore. It's colder, and Blaine draws Kurt close to his side while he eats two chili cheese dogs in record time and then stares out at the water. 

“I'm really enjoying myself.” 

Kurt rests his head onto his shoulder, lacing their fingers together. “I'm glad. I was worried you'd hate every second.” 

“I think... If you'd told me beforehand, I'd have refused to come. But I'm so glad I did. I feel...free. Happy.” 

“I like that.” 

“You make me happy, Kurt.” 

They kiss lovingly, and Kurt feels as though he could burst with the amount of feelings that are rushing through him right now. These seemingly small admittances from Blaine mean so much, because he knows how hard it is for him to make each and every one. 

The cruel, hard rejection shown from his parents and brother has left Blaine feeling like money is the only answer, and that shutting yourself off from any emotion is the only way to ensure you can live a peaceful life. But Kurt knows this isn't true. He knows that losing Logan was hard; he felt, and still does feel, like a massive part of him died too. He can remember the raw pain of sudden grief, and the later agony of deep loss that cuts like a knife into the soul. Despite it all though, he also knows he would rather have suffered losing Logan than never have had him at all. Kurt loves his family, his family loves him back, and that makes him happy. He wishes Blaine had the same.

“What are you thinking about?” 

“My dad,” Kurt answers honestly. “I miss him.” 

“You should go visit.” 

“I will soon. Just need to work a bit more.” 

“I'll pay.” 

“No, Blaine, that wasn't what I...” 

“I know that. But I want to. It's...like you buying me an ice cream, or something. That sounds arrogant, doesn't it?” 

“It does,” Kurt agrees, “but I know what you mean.”

“Please let me. I know it's hard for you to accept me buying you stuff, but I think you know that I wouldn't if I didn't want to.” 

“My dad doesn't know about you.” 

“Woah, I wasn't suggesting I come with,” Blaine says quickly. “Just that I'll pay for your flight, that's all.” 

“Okay,” Kurt says with a nod. “That would be wonderful, thank you. I'll buy you an ice cream.” 

They walk along the sand, not talking, just holding hands and appreciating the moment, the beautiful scenery, and each other. When Blaine stops them, Kurt finds himself drawn into the most tender of kisses, and then into a strong, warm hug, which he can still feel long after they've resumed walking back toward the fairground once more. 

“Do you think you can manage a couple more rides?” 

Blaine gives Kurt a side glance, then looks toward the park, biting his lip. “Mermaid Parade?” he asks hopefully. 

“I was thinking more like Wild River and the Steeplechase?” 

“What are you doing to me?” Blaine groans. “You're not in my will, so quit trying to kill me.” 

Despite his protests, Blaine does enjoy the Wild River ride, and laughs until tears roll down his cheeks when Kurt gets thoroughly soaked from the wave. He's not so happy about the Steeplechase, and would quite happily leave right there and then, but Kurt has one more ride in mind. 

“Cyclone?” Blaine shrieks. “No! It'll collapse.” 

“Well it's not collapsed since nineteen twenty seven,” Kurt says calmly. “And neither of us are exactly overweight.” 

“I can't.” Blaine's voice is firm and commanding, and Kurt knows he won't be swayed. “Thank you for a great date, but I can't go on that Cyclone, I'm sorry.” 

“No worries. Let's head to the subway instead.” 

But they've only walked for a couple of minutes when Blaine spins Kurt around on the spot, and marches him back to the park. “If I die, I will haunt you for all of eternity, and I will never, ever let you have any peace.” 

“Fine by me!” Kurt cries happily, and they board the roller coaster, with Blaine hiding his face in Kurt's shoulder throughout, giving muffled cries of desperation. 

They're still laughing about it together when they leave the subway station and walk back to Kurt's building, and Blaine makes a light mention once again about how free he felt, how much fun it had been to let go. 

“You want tol... No.” 

“What?” 

“I was going to ask if you want to come up, since the girls will be gone, but I don't have a view of the Hudson, or a marble kitchen. My bed isn't a cloud, and my shower just runs water, not vicious attacks.” 

Blaine's eyes darken almost instantly and it thrills Kurt to know how much he is wanted. “Your apartment has you,” Blaine whispers into his ear. “And I want you. Lead the way.” 

Kurt feels like he could giggle as they run up the narrow staircase and he fumbles with the lock on the door. He is completely euphoric, but he pulls up when he sees Blaine step inside and do a double take. 

“I know it's not much, but...” 

“It's tiny.” 

Kurt looks around. The main living area is one room; the kitchen along the back wall, a table and chairs center and then two flea market couches nearer to the windows. Four doors lead off; two on one side leading to Anna and Meredith’s rooms, and two on the other to his room and a bathroom. Blaine is right; it's tiny, but it's his home, and he bristles slightly. 

“Compact and bijou.” 

“How do you live in this?” 

“You've lived in worse.” 

“Where's your room?” 

“Here.” Kurt opens the door, somewhat reluctant now, his mood killed. The bed takes up most of the room, with a small nightstand on the right, which has to be moved each time for Kurt to access the closet. A chest of drawers stands at the end of the bed, meaning nobody can get past and Blaine takes all this in, then frowns. “Oh my god.” 

“Must you always be so honest?” 

“You want me to lie and say it's wonderful? I didn't come here for the place, anyway. I came here for you.” 

“Well I don't feel like giving myself to you right now,” he says primly, and he sits on the bed and folds his arms. 

“Oh baby,” Blaine teases, sitting next to him. “Don't be like that.” 

“Don't call me baby.” 

“Sorry sugar, but you reap what you sow.” 

Kurt smiles in spite of himself, and lets Blaine lie him back against the pillows, kissing him over and over until they're making out with raw passion. 

It becomes a battle for dominance as they tear at each other's clothing. Kurt is determined to make Blaine come undone completely, but Blaine will not give in. Each time Kurt seems to get somewhere, like pinning him down on the bed to kiss the inside of his thighs, Blaine either flips them, or pulls Kurt back up to kiss him. 

“Just stay still,” Kurt orders when he does it again, and he pulls Blaine's underwear off before he can protest, taking him into his mouth. The tight grip Blaine keeps on his hair is the only evidence that he is enjoying the moment, for once again, he is completely silent. Kurt relaxes his throat, breathes in sharply, and takes him as deep as he can. 

“Oh...” 

That one utterance makes Kurt even more determined, but it seems to be a red flag to Blaine, who roughly orders Kurt to turn around. 

He pulls off, breathing hard, his cheeks pink. “But...” 

“Do it.” 

He can't help that those words go right to his cock, making desire flare strongly inside of him. He'd love to fight this out but when all's said and done, he wants to feel Blaine's lips on him, his tongue working over him...he wants to come into his mouth. 

He turns, and together they are silent apart from their ragged breathing. Kurt feels as if he reaches his orgasm a lot quicker than he should, and certainly Blaine keeps going for a long time afterward, but when he does come, it is glorious; his hands roughly squeezing Kurt's thighs, his pelvis lifting, and the softest groan of satisfaction as he spills right to the back of Kurt's throat. 

“Good, huh?” Kurt asks, rolling onto one side and grinning up at the ceiling. 

“Hmm.” 

“Is that it?” 

“Is what it?” Blaine asks. “Oh, you want a cuddle? Get up here then.” 

That wasn't what Kurt had meant, but if Blaine is offering affection, he'll take it, and he curls happily into his side. He knows Blaine doesn't realize it, but he holds him just right, and it makes him feel entirely content and complete. 

He's nearly asleep, when Blaine gently brushes his hair from his eyes, kisses his forehead, and smiles. “I really enjoyed today.” 

“Me too. Can I take you out again sometime?” 

“Maybe,” he teases. “But it's my turn next.” 

“Of course.” Shifting around, Kurt rests his chin onto Blaine's chest and they lie there, watching each other, Blaine's fingers tracing idle patterns over his back. “You know, when we first met...I remember telling Meredith that you were stupidly good looking.” 

“Ha!” Blaine grins, his white teeth standing out in sharp contrast to the dark stubble on his face. “And now I'm not?” 

“You still are...but I remember I said you couldn't be beautiful because you weren't a nice person. I think I really misjudged you, Blaine, and I'm sorry. You are beautiful....and...don't squirm and get all weird about it,” he says when he feels him stiffen beneath him. “Hear me out. Underneath the intensely annoying exterior, you're really lovely, and I'm glad you railroaded me into dinner that time, because I'm having so much fun.” 

Blaine smiles, gently playing with his hair. “I only flew to London for you,” he admits, looking him in the eye. “I didn't need to review the show there, or any other shows for that matter. I just wanted to see you.” 

Kurt is just about to reply, when the sound of a key in the front door makes Blaine leap up and immediately begin reaching for his clothes. 

“Hey, you don't need to go,” Kurt says, stilling his hand. “It's just the girls.” 

“Yeah, no, I have work,” he says, pulling his shirt on. “I'm writing this new column now as well as reviews...rumored castings, show closures, that kind of thing.”

“I'll look out for it.” Kurt watches him finish dressing, feeling more than a little downhearted. “Why don't you stay for a little bit? We could get takeout for dinner?” 

“That's okay.” He leans in, kissing Kurt's lips. “I'll call you.” 

Realizing he won't get his own way this time, Kurt pulls on his robe and stands. “I'll walk you out.” 

“Because, Anna, being a vegan is just dumb,” Meredith is saying when Kurt opens his bedroom door. “Nobody likes tofu, and if they say they do, then they're lying.” 

“I like being a vegan, and I like tofu!” Anna protests. 

“You're lying.” 

“I am not! I...” She stops when she sees Kurt and Blaine, and smacks Meredith’s arm to make her turn around. They lean against the kitchen counter together, staring, as Blaine squares his shoulders and nods politely. 

“Ladies.” 

He strides to the front door, pulls it open and then suddenly turns back to Kurt, grabbing the belt of his robe and pulling him out into the hallway. “I have the gala opening of Cats tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” 

“Would you like to be my plus one?” 

What hits Kurt first is that he actually asked rather than told, and then the words gala opening and Cats all register too. “Broadway? And you want me to be your date?” 

“Yeah. You can meet some people...directors....casting agents.” 

“I'd love to.” 

“You have a tux?” 

“No, but that's okay. I finish work at three, and there's this rental place...” 

“Or...since Saks have your measurements...I could get one sent over to my place and you could come there right from work? Stay over?” 

Kurt would love to protest, but the fact is, Blaine is sweeping him clean off his feet and he swoons, biting his lip before breaking out in an enormous grin. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” 

“Then I'll see you tomorrow.” He kisses Kurt's cheek quickly, and is gone, leaving him to float back into his apartment on a cloud of total happiness.


	9. Chapter 9

When Kurt leaves work the next day, he's surprised to find a car waiting for him. “How do you always know where to be?” he asks Roy as he slides into the back seat. 

“It's my job, sir,” he says politely, but Kurt decides he will also attribute Roy’s sixth sense to magic, along with the shower, the music system and pretty much everything about Blaine's extravagant lifestyle.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kurt thinks he should be annoyed that Blaine has sent a car for him, but then he can't deny it's very nice to relax as Roy weaves through the traffic. He thinks back to the previous night, when he, Meredith and Anna had eaten Chinese food and gotten entirely silly, freaking out about Kurt heading to a gala opening on Broadway. He was glad he had a chance to get the nerves out of his system, because he knows this is usual life for Blaine, and he doesn't want to come off as too green. 

Blaine is waiting, and for the first time ever, he kisses Kurt the second he sees him, running his hands back into his hair and teasing over his lips with his tongue. He kicks the door shut and then lifts Kurt clean off the ground, into a strong hug. 

“You're pleased to see me,” Kurt says into his neck. “Nice.” 

“I am not.” 

“Are you excited for tonight?” 

“No.” 

“Good.” 

Blaine laughs, setting him on his feet and leading him down the hallway to a room he's not been in before. “I'm in the guest room?” 

“No! This is the dressing room.” 

“Oh.” Kurt really has no idea what a dressing room is; surely one can dress in a bedroom or bathroom? But his question is answered when they step inside what is basically the biggest walk-in closet Kurt has ever seen in his life. 

“Well it answers the question of where you keep your clothes,” he says as he looks around.

There are so many rails of suits that he can't count, and racks of shoes, too, mostly Louboutins. There's another rail filled with ties, and then two rails of what looks to be workout attire, with running shoes. Finally, there are two black chests of drawers, containing, Kurt assumes, underwear. 

“I want to die in here.” 

“Ha! I'm glad you like it. Okay, this is yours. I hope it fits.” He hands Kurt an Armani suit carrier, and kisses his cheek. “Try it on. I'll wait in the living room.” 

Stunned into silence, Kurt remains rooted to the spot long after Blaine is gone. Finally he comes to life and unzips the bag, running his hand reverently over the sharp black fabric, heavy with fine quality. It's a perfect fit; the crisp white shirt has tiny black buttons instead of white, the jacket fits like it was made for him, and the brand new Louboutin shoes already feel more comfortable than anything he owns. With his bow tie loose around his neck, Kurt walks down the hallway and into the living room, where his footsteps are swallowed by the thick rug. 

Blaine still notices his presence though, and looks up from the newspaper he's reading. “Oh wow.” 

“Glasses.” 

“Sorry.” He stops looking over his glasses and raises them up into his hair instead. Tugging on the knot of his own tie, he seems quite affected by the sight of Kurt dressed up, and he moves slightly on the couch before clearing his throat. “It's uh... It's good. Do you like it?” 

“Yes. I didn't know how to do the bow tie, but...” 

“I can do that for you. If you want to take a shower, you can. I promise it won't attack you this time. We should have time to make it to dinner before the show starts.” 

“I can't do dinner!” Kurt cries. “I'll spill something on this and then it'll cost extra when it goes back.” 

“It's not going back,” Blaine says with a frown. “It's yours. A gift.” 

“What?” 

Blaine gets to his feet and goes to him, softly caressing his cheek. “I don't know...we might go to more stuff together, maybe? You'll need a tux when you make it big on Broadway, anyway.” 

Stunned by his tenderness and also his kindness, Kurt gives a small shake of his head. “Blaine...it's too much. You just keep spending money on me and I...” 

“I want to. You're incredible, Kurt, and I want to...to.... I don't know. To buy you things I think you'll like, just like you took me to Coney Island. It's not about how much things cost, it's about what makes you happy, and the next time you need a tux for something, you'll have one already, and that'll make you happy, right?” 

Kurt sighs, wrapping his arms around his neck and drawing him into a long kiss. “Right. As long as you're there too.” 

They kiss again, and it quickly builds in intensity. So much so that Kurt starts making fanciful plans about missing dinner in favor of asking Blaine to take him right there and then. 

“Oh my god. Please take your glasses off,” he gasps. 

Blaine pulls back, confused. “Okay.” He takes them from the top of his head, placing them neatly on the coffee table. “I'm sorry you don't like them. I need them to read, really, and type.” 

“Blaine, it's not that I don't like them,” Kurt explains patiently. “It's the opposite.”

“It's...” 

“Seeing you in glasses makes me extremely horny,” he says bluntly. “And now I'm going to take my shower.” 

“Don't you dare jerk off in there, Kurt Hummel!” Blaine bellows down the hallway after him. “Save it for later.” 

They dress separately, and Kurt laughs loudly when he arrives in the hallway to find Blaine waiting, dressed in an elegant tux, and wearing his glasses. “Very funny.” 

“I do need to take them,” he says as he ties Kurt's bow tie for him. “Otherwise I can't see the playbill. But I can see you, and you look divine.” 

“Thank you. So do you.” 

They walk down to the car together, hand in hand, and Kurt notices the way the elevator attendant smiles at them even if Blaine doesn't. He also notices the way Blaine keeps a hold of him at all times, but not in a domineering manner, more because he just enjoys having him close. 

They soon join a long line of cars, all chauffeured, and Kurt suggests they just get out and walk the rest. “I can see the theatre from here.” 

“Red carpet. Press,” Blaine explains. “It's not going to look good if you and I stroll up the street.” 

“We have to have our photos taken?” 

“Yes. But don't worry. You're more beautiful than anyone else.” 

Kurt beams. “That's very nice of you to say.” 

Eventually they arrive, and Blaine guides them onto the carpet, posing quickly for photos, his hand resting in the small of Kurt's back. Kurt is doubtful any of their pictures will end up in the national press, but he still thinks it might be wise to tell his dad about Blaine when he goes home in two weeks time. 

As they walk into the theatre, Kurt can't help but notice the respect Blaine commands. He talks to no one, but a hushed buzz seems to follow them to their seats, and he recognizes other theatre critics from their pictures online. All of them nod to Blaine, then cast their eyes over Kurt, smirk, and turn back to their conversation. 

“People are staring,” he whispers, tugging on Blaine's sleeve. 

“So? Let them stare.” He ushers Kurt into his seat, then leans across him to tap the arm of the man next to him. “Arthur.” 

“Blaine!” The man shakes his hand warmly, and Kurt knows instantly that it's Arthur McKay, esteemed director and the man tasked with bringing this magnificent musical back to Broadway. “Good to see you. How are you, how's the family?” 

“I'm good thank you,” Blaine says politely. “Family are all well.” 

“Wonderful. I hear your father’s been in the hospital? Nothing too serious, I hope. Not the cancer?” 

“It's all fine,” Blaine lies smoothly. “You know dad, he never gives in.” 

“True, true.” 

“So Arthur, this is Kurt Hummel,” he says, and Kurt politely shakes hands and smiles. “He's an actor.” 

The man laughs loudly, shaking his head. “They always are with you, dear boy. They always are.” 

Kurt has a million and one questions all at once, starting with wondering that the hell that last comment had meant, but the lights dim and then he's lost in a world of pure magic, swept away into a beautiful tale told with wonderful music and dance. 

It's so incredible that after two standing ovations, Kurt's almost forgotten all about the weird pre-show moment, but then Arthur shakes both their hands again, and tells Blaine he’ll catch him at the reception. 

“So what the hell was that?” 

“The show?” Blaine asks innocently. 

“Don't.” 

“Arthur is an old friend of the family. We all like to keep up pretences, and make out like we’re this close knit family unit...people don't really know what to say if you tell them your parents have disowned you for being gay. The theatre community is open and accepting, but they also won't stand up for me, since my parents push a lot of money into this theatre and others on Broadway.” 

“Wow. Okay. And the comment about me being an actor?” 

“Ah, don't worry about that,” Blaine says lightly. “Arthur's just having some fun. We can talk more to him a little later. Come on, there's Randolph White. He owns the Belgrade.” 

Kurt shoves everything to the back of his mind and concentrates on meeting one of the most influential men on Broadway. He greets Blaine like an old friend, then they turn their attention to Kurt. 

“Another one, Blaine, really? Your father must despair of you.” 

Blaine smiles politely. “Kurt is an actor.” 

“Of course he is! And half your age, knowing you.” 

They make small talk, but Kurt doesn't join in; he's hurting too much. So far he's met two people, both of whom have made reference to Blaine liking young actors. Though he tries to convince himself they're just teasing, it all seems to add up to a side of Blaine that he knew nothing about. 

Randolph moves on and, entirely oblivious to his pain, Blaine hands Kurt another glass of champagne. “Hey, there's Monty Patz. He's about to direct Loves Game at the Grand. I think that's his casting director next to him. You'd be perfect. I'll introduce you.” 

He doesn't give Kurt a second to answer, just steers him over to the man and woman, interrupts the conversation they're having, and introduces Kurt right off the bat. 

“Still after the actors then, eh?” Monty booms, laughing loudly at his own joke. “Anderson by name, Anderson by nature. Just like your father used to be. I’ve not heard of you, Kurt. What work have you done before?” 

“I um....” Kurt swallows thickly as the room starts to swim before him. “Excuse me,” he whispers, then charges away, pushing past everyone until he's outside on the street. 

“Kurt!” Blaine runs after him, grabbing his elbow and stopping him in his tracks. “What the hell is with you?” 

“You really have to ask?” 

“Monty is a connection you need. He was ready to talk to you and you just bailed.” 

“Because I can't stand to hear yet again how much of a lothario you are, seemingly with a penchant for young actors!” 

“I told you, don't listen to that.” 

“No, you told me that one time, Blaine. And one time, I could ignore it. But then there's a second time, and a third, and there's the whispers as people see us together.” 

“You're behaving like a child, Kurt,” Blaine snaps in annoyance. “There's a room full of people back there that could heavily influence your career and you're throwing a fit because some people made some comments?” 

“I'm fucking hurt, you idiot!” Kurt yells, not caring about passers by. “When you and I started this I never imagined I was just another in a long line.” 

“Don't be dumb,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes. “Come back inside and we can talk about this later.” 

“Don't worry about it,” Kurt chokes out. “I just want to go home.” 

“Fine.” Blaine huffs. “The car’s around somewhere.” 

“No, Blaine. I want to go to my place. I'll get a cab.” 

“Oh no. No way.” Blaine reaches out, firmly grabbing his wrist. “That wasn't the deal. You said you'd stay.” 

“I'm not fucking you!” 

“That's not what I said,” he replies calmly. “But you're not going home. Not like this.” 

“I want to!”

“I don't particularly care what you want, now get in the car.” 

“How is the car here? How?”

Blaine doesn't elaborate, just pulls open the door and gives him a hard shove. “Get in.” 

“Don't touch me!” 

“Oh so what, you're mad I've slept with other people before, so now you wanna land me in trouble by making a scene in public?” 

“I don't give a damn that you've got a past, you jerk. I'm upset because I thought I meant something... I didn't realize I was a conquest.” 

“Whatever.” 

“You don't even try and deny it! Any of it! It's all true, isn't it? Everything they said.” 

“We’ll talk at home.” 

“I'm in the car!” Kurt cries, suddenly realizing. “How am I in your stupid ass car?” 

“You got in.” 

“I hate you, Blaine Anderson,” he growls. “I really, really hate you.” 

But Blaine still seems to think this is all some joke, and he smirks, nudging Kurt's ankle with his toe. “I'm in for a good night, eh?” 

“You don't get this, do you?” Kurt yells loudly. “I fell for your stupid ass act and now I feel like a fool. You pulled me in, got what you wanted and soon someone else will come along. Well I don't want that, Blaine! That's not what I'm about. You told me you'd never had a relationship and now I see why! You're a whore, bedding young actors by introducing them to directors and agents. You make me SICK!” 

“Woah! You thought this was a relationship?” 

Kurt opens his mouth to come back with something, anything, but he can't. His eyes fill with tears and he looks away, trying to keep his face hidden. 

“Oh great, and now you're crying. You're twenty three, for fucks sake. Grow up.”

“Fuck off, Blaine. Roy, can you take me home, please?” 

“I'm sorry, sir,” the chauffeur says from the front seat. “I can only go where Mr Anderson tells me to.” 

“Are you fucking programmed?” he cries. “Just drop me here then. Pull over.” 

“Don't you dare, Roy,” Blaine snarls, then turns to Kurt with a glare. “Stop being a brat. You're coming home with me and we’re talking this out. I have things I want to say too, and all you're doing is screaming at me. So you will give me my chance and then, if you still want to leave after that, I'll ask Roy to take you home.” 

Kurt sulks, sinking low in his seat and folding his arms across his chest with a pout. He knows he looks ridiculous, he knows Blaine's temper is raging, and he knows that it's very likely he will anger him further by crying a whole lot more before this night is through, but it's suddenly hitting him just how much he likes Blaine, and how desperately he wanted this to be a serious thing between them. He also knows, if he's entirely honest with himself, that he'd never actually asked Blaine what he thought their relationship status was, because he had been fearful of the answer. 

They arrive home in silence, and Kurt watches as Blaine takes off his jacket and bow tie, leaving it loose around his neck. He follows suit, and doesn't miss the way Blaine's eyes rake over him before he takes the jacket from him and sets it over the back of a dining room chair. “You want a drink?” 

“No thank you.”

“Fine.” He pours a whiskey for himself anyway, and spends a long time staring out at the lights on the water. “It is true,” he says softly, and behind him, Kurt sinks onto the couch in despair. “I do have a bit of a reputation for sleeping with young actors. Guys like you, I guess, who are just starting out...and I know they see me as a step up the career ladder. I often meet them at events like tonight; opening night parties, press events...they don't usually know how to break into conversation with higher profile actors, or directors, so I start talking with them, introduce them to a few people... I guess they let me fuck them out of gratitude.” 

“I think I've heard enough,” Kurt whispers, getting to his feet. 

“No...listen.” He turns around quickly to face him. “You're... You're the only one I've been on dates with. The only one I've ever brought back here. I usually rent hotel rooms because I don't want some guy showing up here demanding more from me. I never give out my number, never let them stay the night... Kurt, you're so different.” 

“I don't feel like it,” he admits, wiping at the tears that he knew would come. “Not right now.” 

“Those guys...they use me as much as I use them. But I know you don't use me, because you don't ever ask for my help with building connections, or ask me to buy you stuff... Argh!” He downs his drink then runs a hand through his hair in despair. “I'm really awful at this stuff... I don't know what to say.” 

“That's the thing though,” Kurt sadly explains. “You never say a word. Clearly I've misjudged the whole situation, because I assumed this was a thing between us... But you never said it wasn't.” 

“I also never said it was.” 

“No, I know.” 

“Because I wasn't sure that would be something you wanted, with me.” 

“You confuse me, Blaine. I care about you a lot...but then other times I want to punch you in the face. You're infuriating as hell, but I also know you're so much fun to be around, and despite sometimes wondering if it's all worth it, you keep me coming back for more. But you never once give me any indication of what you think or feel and consequently, I find myself shutting down. You tell me you think about me, but that's where the statement ends. You say I make you happy but again you don't elaborate. You're an entirely silent lover, you know that? And I'll be honest...though I enjoy doing stuff with you, I get the feeling you're going through the physical motions without actually mentally connecting with the moment at all. Did you know that when the tips of your fingers brush along my waistband, I get an ache inside of me that won't die down? Did you know that when you kiss me, butterflies build in my stomach and then you look into my eyes and my heart starts to pound? I don't think you feel any of that. I think you shut yourself down because you won't let yourself feel any emotion. You're scared that truly committing to being with someone might also mean that you lose them, that they walk away just like your family did... But that's really sad, because you and I could have had some great times together. However it all ended, we could have looked back on this with great fondness, if only you'd let go.” 

For the first time, Blaine looks genuinely upset as Kurt is talking. He runs his hands through his hair again, and gives a small shake of his head. “I don't know what to say. I mean...I don't want you to go. I thought we had, or have, something that works for us both. I don't want to lose you.” 

“I need your word, Blaine,” Kurt whispers through his tears. “That I'm not like the others.” 

“You're not,” he says quickly. He steps closer, taking Kurt’s face in his hands and wiping away his tears. “You never could be. You're so much more. I adore you, Kurt. Please don't walk away from this. Us... Please.” 

“You wouldn't ever sleep with someone else while you're dating me, would you?” 

“No, I swear.” He answers firmly, his gaze steady and sure as he looks Kurt right in the eye. “Only you can decide if you trust me, but I would never, ever cheat on you. And I don't want to date you. I want to own you.” 

“Blaine! That's... You're joking, right? Please tell me that you're joking.” 

“I am,” he confirms with a smile. “It's my way of saying I want to be with you, and only you, if you'll have me.” 

“So we're together?” 

“So together.” 

Kurt nods, wiping the last of his tears and smiling when Blaine settles his hands on his waist. “I like that.” 

“I do too. And I'll try and moan a little more when we’re in bed.” 

“That wasn't what I meant.” 

“I know. But you're right, I think. I go through the motions, because I know what brings me pleasure, and I know what will pleasure someone else...but I don't know what will bring us pleasure, together. So maybe we could work on finding that out?” 

“I'd love to. And I know you have way more money than me, and you're older, but please treat me like an equal in all of this, otherwise we’ll never work.” 

“I'll try,” Blaine agrees. “I might not always be perfect, and I know I’m grumpy as hell, but I do promise I'll try.” 

“That's all I want. Don’t stop being grumpy though. I enjoy sparring with you.” 

“Can I kiss you now? he asks as he studies Kurt's mouth. “Because you're driving me crazy, dressed like that.” 

Kurt smiles, letting his hands come up to play with his soft curls. “I thought you’d never ask.”


	10. Chapter 10

Blaine leans close, and tenderly brushes his lips over Kurt’s. “Did you ever notice,” he whispers; “In all the reviews I wrote about you, I always commented on your eyes, or your hair? You completely captivated me, you know. I love your eyes. I think I’d be happy to get lost in them forever.” 

He holds Kurt’s face firmly, his thumbs brushing along his jaw. His eyes are searching, studying, and a small smile plays on his face as Kurt stares back, his eyes big and dark blue in the evening light. “You’re breathing really hard.”

“It’s...You’re.... Sometimes you make me weak,” Kurt manages to get out, and then he falls upon him, drawing him into a deep and passionate kiss. 

Blaine stumbles under the force of it but he quickly rights himself, holds Kurt tight, and kisses back hard. Like the floodgates have been opened, they press close, kissing over and over, until Blaine throws his head back, and groans. 

“Yes,” Kurt says against his throat. “Go on.” 

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he groans, screwing his eyes shut. “Damn, Kurt....Bedroom. Now.” 

Kurt grins, his eyes dancing with delight as he takes a firm grip on Blaine’s belt buckle and pulls him down the hallway. “It's better, isn't it? Already?” 

“I'll let you know when we’re done. Holy shit, though. You're a minx, you know that?” 

“I'll keep you young.” 

“Funny.” Blaine reaches out, grabbing Kurt and crushing him in a hard kiss full of lust and desire. He yelps when Blaine lifts him into his arms, but he holds tight around his neck and kisses back with equal fervour. 

He's aware of the bedroom door being opened, and kicked shut, and then he's on the bed, with Blaine over him, biting hard just underneath his jaw as he grinds against him. 

“Blaine! Did you just give me a hickey? What are you, fifteen?” 

“Horny,” he corrects. “Christ, Kurt, I want you so bad. Why is this so different?” 

Kurt stops him, one hand on the back of his neck. “Because we’ve talked? Because we’re more understanding of each other? We have to talk about stuff, Blaine. We have to. Always.” 

Blaine nods, and kisses into the hollow of his throat. The touch is so sweet and caring that it makes Kurt cry out, raising his back off the bed. “I need your hands on me,” he moans, no longer afraid of speaking out. “All over me. Now.” 

“Patience is a virtue,” Blaine whispers into his ear, making him shudder. “All in good time.” 

He pulls back, moving to Kurt's feet and from there, he undresses him painstakingly slowly, laughing to himself every time Kurt whines his protest. He reaches his pants, opening them, sliding them down, his fingers skimming down the outside of his thighs. He doesn't stop, moving onto his underwear and paying no attention at all to his straining erection, begging to be touched. 

“Blaine! I swear...” 

“Soon,” he says, and then winks just to annoy him that little bit more. 

Each button on Kurt's shirt is opened one by one, and then Blaine helps him to sit, peeling it from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. 

“Your turn.” 

“Huh?” 

“You're naked, I'm fully dressed, so come on, Mr Hummel...do your worst.” 

Kurt wants to beg for kisses, for his hands to touch him...but he also likes the game and he stands, his face just inches from Blaine's lips. “My pleasure.” 

He starts with his cufflinks, carefully setting them on the nightstand. Then he unbuttons the rest of his shirt but instead of ignoring his body, as Blaine had done to him, he kisses down the length of his chest before kneeling on the floor and looking up, his hands poised on his belt buckle. 

Blaine reaches out, tracing a finger along the side of his jaw, his chest heaving with desire. Kurt is in no doubt of how much he is wanted and ever so slowly, he opens his belt and pulls it free. He keeps his eyes trained on Blaine throughout, and bringing one hand up he squeezes his erection. 

“Fuck, Kurt...” Blaine fumbles to get his pants open but Kurt shakes his head, and gently moves his hand back to his side. 

“Uh-uh, Mr Anderson. Your time will come. Patience is a virtue, remember?” 

“I'm gonna fuck you into the middle of next week,” Blaine growls angrily. 

“Good.” 

Just to irritate him, Kurt peels his socks off, and kisses his feet. The growl of annoyance is entirely worth it, as is the moan of satisfaction when he finally lowers his pants and underwear in one motion. 

“Thank God,” Blaine sighs, then roughly pulls Kurt to his feet and into his arms, crashing their lips together. The drawn-out teasing ends abruptly in favor of seeking out each and every pleasurable place on each other's bodies. 

At some point they end up back on the bed, entangled together, desperate for more. For a moment, Kurt wonders what would happen if he asked to top, but he has a feeling Blaine has never bottomed in his whole life. He also knows beyond all doubt that he wants him inside of him. 

“It's...I...lube,” he babbles as Blaine grinds against him. “You gotta take me, Blaine, please.” 

“Yes...oh fuck, yes.” 

He breaks away for a moment to the nightstand, and Kurt gets a clear look at him. He looks wild with lust, and totally debauched. His hair is ruffled, his lips swollen, his eyes dark. Kurt imagines he must be the same, and certainly Blaine seems turned on by this as he moves between his legs and kneels there a moment, gripping his thighs. 

“You okay?” 

“I'm kinda losing it,” he admits with an embarrassed laugh. “You're beautiful, you know that?” 

“Thank you and you know...” Kurt pauses, giving a sly grin. “You can lose it over me, if you want. I really don't mind.” 

Blaine shakes his head, laughing, before leaning down and kissing behind his ear. “Minx.” 

That one word goes right to Kurt's cock, making heat flare inside of him and he kisses Blaine hard, moaning loudly when he feels his hand moving back toward his ass. “That feels so good!” 

“I haven't started yet.” 

“I know but holy shit I want you...please, Blaine, please.” 

“Hmm, I like it when you beg.” 

He goes back to teasing, lightly pressing his fingers there and kissing Kurt hotly, teasing with his tongue. The first time he slides a finger right inside, Kurt breaks away, clutching his hair in desperation. He pushes down onto it, as hard as he can, with a groan of satisfaction. “More.” 

“Yes,” Blaine whispers and obliges, quickly. 

Kurt can hear Blaine’s breathing, ragged and harsh in his ear; he knows he's desperate, so he stills his hand and opens his legs wider. Blaine is there in an instant, pushing slowly and insistently and the deeper he goes, the more Kurt bites his lip and whimpers. 

“Okay?” 

“So okay,” he pants. “Blaine...oh my god.” 

“Yeah, be loud, Kurt,” he whispers. “Go on. Let me hear you.” 

“I feel like...like you're claiming me,” he admits, raking his nails down his back. “In the best possible way.” 

“Yeah?” Blaine kisses his neck, down to his shoulder and then his chest. “You wanna be mine?” 

“Yes I do. Oh!” he cries as Blaine starts to move quickly. “Yes, I really do.” 

Blaine is relentless in his pace. He is hard, fast, rough, yet tender, sweet, and kind. It's not lost on Kurt that although he feels like he's tearing open, Blaine keeps kissing him over and over, holding him close, running his hands into his hair. 

“Sit up,” he suddenly demands. “I need you closer.” 

The headboard behind him, Kurt sinks slowly down, closing his eyes in ecstasy. He feels Blaine's chest, slick with sweat, press against him as he gathers him near, one strong arm around his waist, the other holding them steady on the bed. He drives so hard, and so fast and deep that Kurt has to reach up behind him, clutching the headboard to stay in place. 

Intense waves of pleasure shoot through him over and over, and that's before he's even reached his climax. Blaine seems to surround him; his hands, lips and tongue moving hotly all over his body and all the while, he keeps the same fast pace. 

“Jesus!” Kurt yells, unable to hold back. “I'm gonna fucking explode.” 

“Go on,” Blaine pants through gritted teeth. “Go on, Kurt. Come on me, I want you to.” 

He wraps his hand around him, encouraging him in soft whispers and then suddenly Kurt arches his back, screws his eyes shut tight, and comes harder than he ever has. “Blaine! Holy shit!” 

Blaine keeps going, driving him through it and then he gives a shout of his own as his whole body goes tense. “Fuck, Kurt, yes. Yes..... Kurt...” 

He doesn't finish; his orgasm hits and he seems to fill Kurt up with an animalistic growl of satisfaction. Kurt rides it out, until neither of them can bear it any longer and they fall back on the bed, breathing hard as they stare up at the ceiling, exhausted. 

“Damn.” 

Blaine glances over at Kurt, gives a soft laugh and then turns back to the ceiling, throwing his hands over his eyes. “You've ruined me,” he groans. “I knew it. I knew you would. You've got me talking about feelings...cuddling...shouting your name in bed... I'm a shadow of the man I once was, and it's all your fault.” 

Giddy, Kurt laughs loudly. He can't help it, and Blaine doesn't seem to mind, anyway. In fact, he pulls him close and kisses into his damp hair. “You're incredible, you know that?”

“You're not too bad yourself, Mr Anderson. I had a funny feeling you'd be a talented lover. All that anger. Grr.” 

This time, Blaine laughs loudly and rolls on top of him, kissing him lovingly. “Grr. Come on. Let's take a bath. I feel we’ve earned it.” 

Kurt would like to just stay messy, sweaty and sticky in bed, but he can't really argue when Blaine leads him down the hall to possibly the biggest bathroom he's ever seen in his life. The tub in Blaine's own bathroom is impressive, but this one is a whole other level. Half of the room is on one level, with sinks, a shower and a toilet hidden neatly behind a screen. Then there are steps up to the second part of the room and a magnificent sunken tub, which means that the occupants can look out over the Hudson together. 

“Wow,” Kurt whispers as he sinks into the hot water. “You need to be careful, Blaine. Keep lavishing all this on me and I won't ever want to leave.” 

Blaine pulls him back between his legs and gives his shoulder a little kiss. “You'd hate living with me,” is all he says, and then they are silent and still. 

They stay there until the water starts to cool and Kurt shivers. Blaine helps him out, wrapping him in a thick robe and kissing his cheek, nuzzling close. 

Kurt sighs happily, wrapping his arms around his neck. “You're such a gentleman. So different to when we first met.” 

“Uh-uh,” he teases lightly. “I tried to help you up when you slipped in the snow, and you were having none of it.” 

“You also snapped your fingers at me for sugar.” 

“Oh.” He frowns, thinking back. “Yeah.” 

“Mmmhmm. I win.” 

Blaine doesn't protest, just takes him back to bed, quickly changing the sheets and then curling around Kurt, who is worn out and right on the verge of sleep. “You've won me over, Blaine Anderson,” he murmurs. “And I am yours.” 

“Good. You know, I.... Oh, fuck!” 

Kurt sits in alarm as Blaine jumps out of bed and pulls on a robe. “What is it?” 

“My review! I forgot to write it. How did I forget? It's my job, for goodness sake. Damn. Damn...shit.” 

“Can you do it in the morning?” 

“For it to appear in the morning edition?” 

“Oh... Yeah.” 

“I've got like...forty minutes,” he says, looking at his watch on the nightstand. “Okay. You sleep. I'll get it done and then come back to you.” 

“Don't do that. Type it here, next to me.” 

“It'll keep you awake.” 

“Please.” 

So Blaine obliges, and the last thing Kurt sees is the laptop screen illuminating Blaine's face in the dark; the shadow of stubble on his jaw, the outline of his glasses and his beautiful face, as he looks down at Kurt and smiles. 

When he wakes, he's expecting Blaine to be absent but he's not. He's lying on his front, one arm resting loosely around Kurt's waist. He seems to appreciate being woken with soft kisses, if the lazy smile spreading over his face is anything to go by. 

“Did you get your review done?” 

“With one minute to spare,” he replies without even opening his eyes. 

“I thought you'd be up already, working out.” 

“I'm gonna work out with you in a moment.” 

“Um...” 

“In your ass.” 

“Well thank you for that blunt clarification,” Kurt says primly, but he's soon laughing, eagerly accepting Blaine's kisses as he enters him once more. 

It's a strange feeling, to wander into your boyfriend's kitchen wearing only your underwear, to be greeted by said boyfriend dressed in his usual suit, but also two housekeeping staff. A strange feeling, and also one which angers Kurt and, after running away and returning wearing a robe, he punches Blaine hard on the arm. 

“Ouch! What was that for?” 

“You didn't tell me you had staff!” 

“I have staff.” 

“You should have warned me.” 

“Don't worry about them. They've been with me for years, they're very discreet and trust me, they were far more surprised to see you.” 

“It's true,” one of the women trills as she walks back into the kitchen. “Mr Blaine never has a boyfriend. We all wait and wait but no. He too rude to have a boyfriend.” 

“Well that's true,” Kurt says happily, and the second she leaves again he draws Blaine into a long kiss. 

“What are your plans today?” Blaine asks, not letting go of him. 

“Hmm, well, I have work at three, and a meeting with my agent at one.” 

“They need to find you more work.” 

“That's what the meeting is for.” 

“Tell them they're wasting your talents.” 

“No!” 

“Then I'll come with you and tell them myself.” 

“You will not!” Kurt cries angrily. “Don't you dare.” 

“Fine, but if you don't get an audition soon then I'll be contacting them.” 

“You do that and I'll never speak with you again.” He sits at the dining room table, all laid out for breakfast, and picks up the New York News, immediately finding Blaine’s review. “You only gave Cats four out of five? It was incredible!” 

Blaine shrugs, and butters some toast. “It was good, but I counted two times where the female lead was a half a beat behind the chorus. Not good enough.” 

“Sheesh. No wonder everyone hates you.” 

“They don't hate me, they respect me,” Blaine corrects. “Because I'm not afraid to say what everyone else is thinking. You know what? Arthur will read that review and they'll work on her performance all goddamn day. By tonight, she’ll be flawless, and she won't make such a careless mistake again.”

“Have you ever been on stage? Do you know how hard it is for her to sing, dance, and act up there, remember all she's got to do, and all the time she's dressed as a fucking cat?” 

“She took the role.” 

“You're unbelievable.” 

“Come out with me tonight.” 

“No.” 

“Okay, feisty. Don't come out. Come here instead and I'll order in. We can watch a movie or something.. I don't know.. Fuck, probably.” 

“Blaine!” 

He grins and, in a very surprising move, he takes himself out of his chair and sits across Kurt's lap instead, pouting. “Please?” 

“I like that option,” Kurt begrudgingly admits. “But aren't you fed up with me?” 

“No, so make the most of it.” 

“Charming. Okay, fine, I'll play your stupid game, and I'll come over after work but don't you send Roy to drive me. I can get the subway just fine.” 

But the car is there anyway, and after having read the gossip columns from every newspaper in town, Kurt’s manager, Karl, asks a million and one questions when he sees Roy pull up outside. 

“So how rich is he? You know what I once read about him? I read he cut his family out because they don't like that he isn't settled down. Your man has quite the reputation about town, it seems.” 

“Oh he does,” Kurt says lightly as he gives the counter a final wipe down. “He's rude, arrogant, demanding and he's known for his one night stands with young actors.” He takes off his apron, hangs it up and grabs his coat. “But he's my man, and I am his, and that's all that really matters.” 

He arrives at the penthouse full of kisses which Blaine accepts eagerly, all the while guiding him into the apartment and through to the dining table, elegantly set for two. “I thought you'd be mad at me,” he says before kissing him again and again. “Because I sent the car.” 

“Well I had some news today, so you're let off, because I want to tell you.” 

“Intriguing.” They sit at the table and Blaine pours wine, raising his glass in a toast. “Go on.” 

“My agent has got me a part. There's a show going on in three weeks, but the lead has had to quit and they need an urgent stand in. It's a lot of work, but I think I can do it. Off Broadway lead!” He claps his hands together excitedly, but Blaine doesn't miss the hesitancy in his eyes. 

“What show?” 

“It's um... It's a musical.” 

“What show, Kurt?” he asks again, his voice low.

“The uh... The Life of Riley Morton.” 

Blaine chokes on his wine, setting his glass hard on the table. “Is that a joke?” 

“They're desperate, Blaine! And the pay is really good, and it's the lead, and I don't even have to audition!” 

“You don't have to audition, because Frank Fisher is directing it, you idiotic child! He's seen an opportunity to lure you back and he's pulling out all the stops. He's so damn worried about you being with me, and worried that his sordid antics in London will get out, that he's trying to win you over with promises of a lead, and great pay... And you're falling for it!” 

“Hey! I'm not a child, or an idiot! It's my life, Blaine, not yours, and you won't be the one who tells me how to live it.” 

“You're right, I can't,” Blaine says quietly. “But I do care about you an awful lot, and I don't want you in any danger. I don't want you to take the part, Kurt, please.” 

Kurt stares at his wine glass, his eyes downcast. “I'm sorry, Blaine,” he whispers sadly. “But I already did.”


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine bows his head and for a moment, there is silence. Kurt waits, nervously biting his lip. Eventually, unable to stand it, he reaches out, and tentatively touches his shoulder. 

“Blaine?”

“Why?” he whispers sadly. “Don’t you have any self-respect? The guy walked in on you in the shower; I paid thousands of dollars for you to stay away from him and now this?”

“Jeez, I’ll pay it back if that’s what you’re upset about.”

He lifts his head and to Kurt’s complete shock, he sees his eyes are shining with tears. When he speaks, his voice is soft and sad. “That’s not what I’m upset about! I’d give you all my money if you asked for it. I don’t care. I care that you’re worth more than that. You’re better than Frank Fisher and his crappy musicals. Take a look at his track record, Kurt. Most of his plays close not long after opening. Very few last longer than a six week run. You should know; you’ve been in two of them already.”

“But I...”

“But even if he was the most esteemed director on all of Broadway, I still wouldn’t want you working with him. You were upset about my reputation, but I’ve never forced myself on anyone. Anything I’ve done has been with full consent on both sides.”

“Frank didn’t force himself on me.” 

Blaine suddenly roars with anger, slamming his fist down onto the table. “He masturbated with you in the bed next to him, and then again when you were showering!” he shouts. Pushing back from the table, he gets to his feet and begins to pace in front of the windows, his despair and upset evident. “I wouldn’t even do that with you, and I’m in a relationship with you! It’s not okay, and what’s worse, is that he’s only offering you this role now because he knows then he’ll have a chance to hit on you all over again.” 

“Oh my God!” Kurt stands too, pointing across the table at him. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re jealous!”

“As if! Why would I be jealous? I’ve got you. He hasn’t.”

“No one’s ‘got me’, Blaine,” Kurt warns, his voice low. “I’m not a commodity, I’m a person in my own right.”

“So I see.” 

“It’s okay for you. If some sleazy editor asks you to write something you can afford to take a moral high ground. I can’t. I need the money, I need the exposure this role will bring.” 

“No you don’t,” Blaine argues back. “I’ve got all the money you’ll need. I’ll pay you ten times what Frank will, if you’ll stay away from that lousy show. As for exposure... you don’t need any more bad reviews.”

“It’s only you who writes shit about me.”

“But I’m not the only one who writes shit about Frank’s shows,” he counters. “And the more you work with him, the more you’ll become known as one of his casting couch boys, and your name will be tainted. You think you’ll get to Broadway by playing one of his leads? Because I’m telling you now, that will never happen.” 

“Everyone has to start somewhere.”

“You’ve started already, Kurt. I’ve told you before; you’ve got to put quality over quantity. Wait a little longer for the right role to come. Actually, you know what? I don’t care. Join the chorus of American Planet if you want to, but I’m telling you, you shouldn’t do this show.” 

“You can't tell me what to do, Blaine.”

Blaine stands with his back to him as he looks out on the water. “No,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I can’t.”

There’s another long silence and then suddenly, he turns back with a smile, though it is somewhat forced. “Let’s have dinner.” 

“Um...yeah. Okay,” Kurt agrees, somewhat dazed by the abrupt turn in conversation. He takes his place again at the table, watching as Blaine tops off their wine glasses. “This is all very romantic.”

“Yeah.” He gives an embarrassed smile. “I was uh...” He stops, looking up toward the kitchen door. “Nevermind. Food.” 

“Did you cook?”

“I ordered in,” he replies and at that very moment, a waiter enters with two entrees. 

Kurt’s eyes grow wide; he follows the man across the room, watches him set the plates down, and watches him leave again. “What the hell was that?”

“I ordered in.”

“So that guy brings the food and waits in the kitchen until you demand it?”

“No, the chef I ordered comes and cooks the food, and that guy brings it out when I tell him.”

“There’s a chef in your kitchen?”

“Yeah.” Blaine smiles, pleased with Kurt’s amazement. He reaches out, taking his hand and kissing his fingers. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

“You’re so wasteful. How much does all this cost? You could’ve called for Chinese food...ordered pizza...Hell, you could even have cooked it yourself, but no, you’ve got a guy in your kitchen cooking for you.” 

“It’s a woman, actually, and she’s cooking for us, not me,” Blaine snaps. “And yes, I could have called for a pizza, but I told you, I wanted this to be special.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter now. You’re being a brat, so I don’t want to say.” 

“Fine.” 

The romantic meal turns into an hour of awkward silences, interspersed with polite, strained talk about Blaine’s day. By the end of the main course, both parties have had enough, but it’s the hotheaded Blaine who breaks the tension, by slamming his glass down so hard it shatters. 

“Fuck!” 

Kurt leaps up, grabbing his napkin to try and stop the red wine from ruining the rug, but it’s too late. “Damn. Blaine, your hand...”

“It’s fine.” 

“The mess...”

“Don’t worry about it,” he barks. “Just leave it.” 

“But...”

“I’m wasteful, remember?” he says bitterly. “I’ll pay someone to clean it.”

“Blaine...”

“Excuse me.” 

He walks quickly from the room, seemingly not caring that he’s dripping blood from the cut on his hand. Kurt is unsure of what to do, but when the waiter silently enters and starts picking up the shards of glass, he immediately tries to help. 

“No, no, sir. I’ll do it.”

“I can’t let you, really.”

He thinks he’s being kind, but the man looks affronted rather than pleased, so he gathers a few large pieces and then goes in search of Blaine. He finds him in his office, a room he’s not been in before. It is large, opulent, and home to a magnificent curved mahogany desk. It is this that Blaine sits on, rather than the chair, and his back is to Kurt as he stares out of the window. 

Kurt’s unsure if he even hears him arrive, the carpet is that thick, and he doesn’t turn around either. He looks around the room. It is masculine, filled with all the latest technology plus expensive antique furniture, but it’s the first time Kurt has seen anything of Blaine’s personality in any room of the apartment. On the right hand side of his desk sit three picture frames. One holds a photo of him and Kurt taken on the Mermaid ride at Coney Island. That makes Kurt’s heart surge with emotion, to know that Blaine thinks enough of him to want a permanent reminder of him, but if that photo makes him happy, the other two make Kurt nearly cry. 

One photo is undoubtedly a young Blaine with his parents. He’s no more than five years old, with wildly curly hair and dressed in cute overalls. He holds both his mom and dad’s hands, and he’s looking up at his dad, smiling, as his parents grin at the camera. It’s faded; a distant moment in time captured and preserved forever, when no one could have predicted how the future would unfold. 

The other photo, Kurt assumes, is Blaine with his brother. Though the two don’t look alike, there is still a family resemblance. It’s taken on his brother’s college graduation day and though Kurt has never asked, there is obviously a fair few years between them, since Blaine looks to be around sixteen in the picture. The two brothers have their arms around one another, grinning broadly. Of course, there are no photos of Blaine’s own graduation.

“Did anyone even go?”

Blaine starts at the sound of Kurt’s voice. “Go where?”

“To your graduation.”

“I did.”

Kurt doesn’t ask any more. He comes around the desk, stands between Blaine’s legs, and kisses him as lovingly as he can. “How’s your hand?”

“It’ll be okay. I need to go get a bandaid.”

“I ruined everything.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re sad, though, and that’s so much worse than when you’re angry.”

“I’m hurting,” he admits quietly, looking down at the towel wrapped around his palm. “I know tonight was extravagant but I wanted to do that for you. We have a thousand and one nights to order chinese food, or whatever, but tonight I just wanted...and then you came home with that news, and I could just feel all my expectations for the evening slipping away.” 

“Do you want me to quit the role?”

Blaine pauses. “I want you to decide for yourself,” he says eventually. “Because if I demand that, you’ll resent me for it, and I’d hate that. I um...” He pauses, takes a deep breath, and then looks Kurt in the eye. “I don’t want to lose you, Kurt. I worry that I will, and then it scares me that I’m worried about losing you and... I just care about you so much.” 

“You won’t lose me.” He rests their foreheads together, bringing his hands up into his hair. “But I want to do the show.”

“I know you do, but let me just say this, okay? I have a lot of concerns. Firstly, Frank has had this musical in the pipeline for a long time now, but no one would be stupid enough to back it. The Life of Riley Morton is a weak ass attempt at making another Sweeney Todd, only Riley Morton murdered little black kids. It’s a gruesome story and God knows why Frank thinks it’d make a decent musical. I think it’ll close quickly, and I think that will reflect badly on your career. I know I said to push yourself, but I think the role of such a disgusting historical figure is beyond anyone’s capabilities, especially the way Frank will write it.   
Then, my biggest concern is the effect this could have on you. Frank is a sleazy guy, with one thing on his mind. You’ve already spurned his advances in the worst possible way, but trust me, he will try again and again and if you keep turning him down, he’ll want his revenge, and he’ll do that by spreading ugly rumors, malicious gossip...and I don’t know if you, or us, will withstand that.” 

Kurt sits next to him on the desk, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “Look, Frank is desperate here, and I’ve stepped in to save his show, and his ass. If he tries anything, I swear to you, I’ll walk away and smear his name all over this town.”

“You don’t have the influence to do that, Kurt.”

“No, but you do.”

“I do.”

“Come with me to a few rehearsals,” Kurt suggests. “Let’s make Frank very aware that we’re together.”

Blaine nods, a slow smile forming on his face. “You wouldn’t mind that?”

“No. I kinda want pretty much everyone to know you’re my boyfriend so...”

Blaine wrinkles his nose. “Boyfriend makes me sound like I’m fifteen.” 

“Babe.” 

Blaine laughs. “Stop it.” 

“Cutie pie.”

“I’m warning you.”

“Honeybunch.” 

“Okay, enough!” He reaches out, grabbing Kurt and hauling him into his arms, smothering his face with kisses. 

“We need to get bandaids for your hand,” Kurt says between his laughter. 

“In a minute.” He pulls Kurt into a long kiss and then into a strong hug. “I’m sorry for the way this evening turned out.” 

“Hey, no, it was me. I shouldn’t have gone off over the meal. It was really sweet of you. I just have a hard time adjusting to this lifestyle, that’s all. I still feel bad that you’ve paid for my flight home on Friday.”

“So do I,” Blaine says. “I’ll miss you.” 

He distracts Kurt then, kissing down his neck and running his hands up under his sweater. “Hmm.”

“Bandaids,” Kurt orders. “Now.”

They head back to the living area, where there is no longer any hint of any staff, or of any dinner, blood, glass....nothing. Everything is quiet and still, and it baffles Kurt as he follows Blaine into the pristine kitchen. 

“This place is amazing.” 

“It’s okay, I guess.” Blaine stands by the island, frowning. “Hmm. Bandaids.”

“Don’t you know what’s in the cupboards?”

“Nope.” 

“Blaine!” He watches, laughing as Blaine opens a few doors. 

“I know where the fridge is, and the wine. Good enough for me.”

“Have you ever cooked here?”

“No.”

“Blaine! I like cooking, it’s fun. Baking is best. Cookies, cakes.”

“Feel free to cook here anytime you choose,” he mumbles, his head in a cupboard. He emerges, triumphantly holding up some band aids. 

Kurt takes them and orders Blaine to the sink, where he washes his hand, carefully dries it and then applies two band aids. He raises his hand to his lips, kissing his palm and then the inside of his wrist, keeping eye contact the whole time. 

“Are you staying?” Blaine asks, his voice rough.

“I want to.”

“Then stay.” 

Kurt is not expecting to be hoisted up onto the island, and he’s definitely not expecting Blaine to climb up there too, pushing him back and kissing him passionately. But that’s what happens, and the next thing Kurt knows, clothes are being shed, and the fantasy he’s always had- of someone wanting him so much that they have to take him there and then- is coming true. 

Blaine falls asleep first that night, wrapped protectively around his boyfriend, but Kurt lies awake for a long time, thinking everything over, playing out the evening’s events, and hoping he’s not made a massive mistake by accepting the role. 

Blaine is absent when he wakes and, feeling more comfortable now, Kurt pulls on a robe and goes in search of him, nodding politely to the housekeeper.

Blaine appears through a door which Kurt had assumed was a storage closet. It turns out to be a staircase down to a fully equipped gym though, and after gazing around it in wonderment, he follows Blaine back up the stairs and into the bedroom. 

“You know you said you’ll miss me this weekend?”

“Yes.”

“I was thinking. Why don’t you come with me? You could meet my dad and granny, see where I grew up...it’d be fun.” 

Blaine pulls his shirt over his head, and kisses Kurt’s lips on the way to the bathroom. “No thanks.” 

“What?”

He turns around in the doorway and gives a shrug. “I’m good. Thanks for the invite, though.” 

“But I want you to meet my dad!”

“Yeah...no. But thanks for thinking of me.” 

Baffled, and thinking that Blaine has totally missed the point, Kurt decides to let it slide this time, and he says no more of it. Blaine insists on accompanying him to the airport, and tells him yet again that he will miss him over the weekend.

“Come on, you must be looking forward to the break,” Kurt teases. “I’ve been at your place every night since Monday.” 

“You’d think, but no. Funny, I never thought I’d like having someone around.”

“Same, and I’ve never liked sharing a bed with anyone before, either.” 

For a moment, Blaine looks like he’s about to say something but then he just smiles, kisses Kurt’s cheek and holds him close for a moment. “Have fun. I’ll see you Sunday.” 

Kurt turns away, but then Blaine reaches out, closing his fingers around his wrist. “Please.”

Kurt looks back. Blaine’s dark eyes are pleading, and though he knows why, he still asks the inevitable. “Please what?”

“Don’t do it. The show, I mean. I know I said I wouldn’t ask you to quit, but I’m asking you now. Please.” 

“Blaine, I...”

“Just think about it, okay? You’re supposed to start Monday, I know, but you don’t have to. Just take the weekend, and think it over.” He kisses him again, quickly, and then walks away, leaving Kurt standing there wondering what he should do. 

When he lands, his dad is there waiting for him and, having spent much of the flight agonizing over whether to follow his own heart or abiding by Blaine’s wishes, he feels like sinking into his dad’s embrace and staying there. 

Burt quickly notices, of course, and tries repeatedly to get answers to his probing questions, but Kurt takes refuge first in his own childhood bedroom and then across the hall, in Logan’s room. 

When Logan had first died, Kurt wouldn’t set foot inside but since then it’s become his sanctuary, the place he always goes to when he needs time to think, or just to feel close to his brother once more. The room is still more or less as Logan had left it when he first went to college; there’s still his old high school football trophies on the shelves, old ticket stubs, photos and drawings on the pin board, and pictures of their family everywhere. The room also gives a view of the yard, and the tree Kurt and his dad had planted in memory of Logan stands in the center, already growing strong and tall. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Burt says, coming in and sitting on the bed. “Tree looks good, huh?”

“I’ve met someone, dad,” Kurt says without turning around. “And I feel more for him than I ever thought possible, but I don’t know if we’re ever going to work.” 

“You’re dating?”

“Yeah.” He turns around, leaning back against the window frame. “I have been for a few months.”

“Oh. Is it serious?”

“Yes. I think so, anyway. I didn’t tell you because... well, because I wasn’t sure, for quite some time, and he’s uh.. He’s a bit older.”

“A bit?”

“Twenty years.”

“What?” Burt shrieks, getting to his feet. “Kurt! That’s... you’re... Okay. Okay. I can’t tell you what to do here, kid, but that puts him much closer to my age than yours. And you say it’s serious? Marriage, serious? Babies? He’ll be too old.”

“No, no, not that serious,” Kurt says quickly. “Dad please. This was not something I was ever expecting to happen. He’s that critic, you know? The one that dissed me in all those reviews?”

“You hate him!”

“I do.” Kurt smiles as he thinks of the way he and Blaine fight. “He drives me crazy. He’s moody, sullen, rude....and sweet, funny, caring... He’s this big gruff grizzly bear with a heart of gold and I...”

He stops himself just in time, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “He makes me really happy.”

“I need to meet him.” 

“He’s a little reluctant about that,” Kurt says diplomatically. “But I have an opening night coming up. You could fly in for that?”

“You’re in a show? Since when? Why do I not know anything about your life any more?”

As it turns out, Kurt and his dad talk all afternoon, and long into the evening. By the end of it, Burt knows every detail of everything that’s happened, including what had taken place in London, Blaine and Kurt’s subsequent dates, the huge amount of wealth Blaine has, the amazing apartment where Kurt has been staying this past week, and all about their stalemate over Kurt taking the role in Frank’s show. 

“So what do I do?”

“No good me telling ya’,” Burt says gruffly. “You never listen. I agree that you need to work, but this old guy seems to know what he’s talking about.”

“Please stop calling him the old guy. And yes, he does.”

“This Frank guy worries me, and I agree that he’s only offered you the role to get you where he wants you. But I know you can handle yourself, and I think if you make sure never to be alone with him, and you make him fully aware that you’re committed to the old guy, you should be okay. It’s three weeks of rehearsals and then a month’s run, right? So two months from now it’ll all be over and if it works out to be a stepping stone for you then great, and if not then you just move on.”

“That’s what I think too, but Blaine seems so sad about it, you know? Not pissed at me, just sad, and that worries me. I can move on, if it all goes horribly wrong, but will he? Or will he just keep telling me he told me so? Should I just back out now and save two months of awkwardness between us?” 

“Honestly, Kurt? It’s a straight up choice. Follow your career or follow the old guy’s wishes. You’ve never been anyone’s lap dog, my son, and I don’t see why you’d want to start.”

“No,” Kurt says, sitting a little straighter. “I’m not, you’re right. I’m my own person, capable of making my own decisions, and I’ve decided. I’m doing the show.”


	12. Chapter 12

Though Kurt has a wonderful time reconnecting with his dad and visiting his grandmother, he is undeniably excited to be back in New York, and seeing Blaine waiting for him fills him with joy. He runs toward him, throwing himself into his arms and squeezing him tight. 

“Ugh. Why?” Blaine moans, but Kurt knows he's equally as happy that they're reunited once more; in fact, he kisses him full on the lips in the middle of the busy airport and then keeps ahold of his hand until they're at the car. 

“So you had fun?” 

“The best,” Kurt says, pulling Blaine’s arm around him and tucking in close to his side. “I told dad about us.” 

“And?” 

“He was uh...” 

“Horrified.” 

“Surprised,” Kurt says, laughing. “But he's happy for me. I kinda told him how I feel about you so...” 

“Which is?” 

“I don't want to smack you in the mouth quite as often as I used to.” 

“Thanks.” Blaine kisses into his hair as they travel toward Mapleton. Kurt can feel him relaxing, becoming the Blaine he is in private, the one that only he knows. 

“Do you have any plans tonight?” 

“Fucking you.” 

“Blaine!”

He laughs. “Not really. Well, I mean, that's a fine plan, but I don't have anything I need to do.” 

“So...you could come back to my place?” 

Blaine stiffens, and sits a little straighter. “Will your roommates be there?” 

“I don't know, do I? But I will be, and I'd like to spend some time with you.” 

“Come to my place then.” 

“We’re always at your place.” 

“Because it's better.” 

“You are so fucking rude sometimes,” Kurt snaps. “Don't bother if my apartment offends you that much. Jeez.” 

“Ugh. Fine. I'll come up,” Blaine says, and he dutifully follows Kurt up the narrow stairs and into the apartment, where Anna and Meredith are sitting, one on the floor and one on the couch, trying to throw pistachios into one another’s mouths. 

“Kurt!” Anna shrieks and leaps off the couch, then she pulls up short. “Oh, and Blaine. Hi. It's really nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah,” Meredith says, getting to her feet. “Welcome. I'm Meredith and this is Anna.” 

“Hello,” Blaine says formally, then he glances at Kurt. “I'll be in your room.” 

He's gone before anyone can question it, and after a hushed conversation with the girls about how abrupt his boyfriend can be, he heads into his room to find Blaine standing by the bed, looking thoroughly out of place. 

“What the hell?” 

“What?” 

“You were so rude!” Kurt hisses angrily. He closes the door but keeps his voice low, not wanting to alert the girls to their argument. “You didn't speak. They introduced themselves and you just walked off!” 

“I said hello.” 

“This relationship is important to me, Blaine, and so are those two girls. They're the ones who picked me up when Logan died, who graciously allowed me to live with them when I couldn't afford my own place. They're the ones who encourage me, who build me up, who know me as well as I know myself so don't you dare be rude to them, because I won't stand for it. I want you to know them, because if you and I keep going, I'd like to think we can see them together and there won't be any awkwardness about it.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I told you, this relationship means a hell of a lot.” 

“Does it?” 

“Yes.” He softens, beguilingly wrapping his arms around his neck. “And I think I need some kisses.” 

Blaine obliges, but there's something missing, something he's holding back and though Kurt would like to question it, Blaine clings onto him when they part, burying his face into the crook of his neck. 

“I'm sorry I was rude, I'll try harder.” 

“Thank you.” They kiss again, and Blaine is strangely pliant, letting Kurt back him towards the bed and falling on top of him. Again, he senses that something is off, and it's not long before Blaine breaks the kiss again in favor of hugging him close. 

“Blaine, are you okay?” 

“I'm fine.” 

“Sure?” He falls onto his side, studying his profile. “Did something happen while I was away?” 

“Only that I missed you. What about you? Anything happen?” 

“Granny made me a fruitcake,” Kurt says with a laugh. “And said she was pleased I'd found a nice boy.” 

“Right.” 

Kurt studies him a moment longer, then gently brushes a curl from his forehead. “Are you hungry?” 

“A little. You want to go out for dinner?” 

“We could...or I could cook?” 

“Sure. Let's go.” 

“No, I mean here. I could cook for us here. The girls too.” 

Blaine sits and runs a hand through his hair. “No thank you.” 

“You said you'd try!” 

“And I will, when you stop avoiding the real issue by either trying to seduce me or making sure we’re not alone.” 

“What?” Kurt sits too, entirely confused. “What are you talking about? There's no issue, is there?” 

“Is that a joke? I asked you to quit the show. You text me over the weekend about anything and everything, but you didn't answer the one question I had asked. Now you're back, asking me what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong, you're going to do it, aren't you? You're going to waste your talent and your time on a show that will ruin your career and us too, probably.” 

Kurt reaches out, but Blaine is not in the mood to be touched and he stands, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Yes, I am going to do it,” Kurt says, his voice calm. “Because I want to. But that doesn't mean we’re going to fall apart because of it. We’re better than that.” 

“Are we? I don't know. You won't listen to me.” 

“I'm nobody's lapdog, Blaine,” he says, echoing his father’s words.

“That's what you think this is all about? Me, trying to control you? I don't want you hurt, or in danger. I don't want to see you putting your career on the line. It's not a control issue, hell, I thought you knew me better than that by now. Obviously not.” 

“I think it is a control issue, yes,” Kurt comes back. “And jealousy. You know Frank has a weird thing for me, and you feel threatened by that, even though I've told you time and again there's no need to worry. I think you're so used to people doing your bidding in life, and now you're annoyed because you've told me to jump and I won't ask how high.” 

“That's... That's...” Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “You know what, Kurt? One of the things I adore about you, is that you give as good as you get. I love that we fight over the littlest things. I love that you don't take crap from anyone... That day I snapped my fingers at you? You burned me, and it set me on fire with a desire to know this feisty young thing. You wanna know something else? The three people I loved most in this world refused to accept me, who I am, what I'm about, anything. I thought you were different. I thought you would've realized that I think you're the most incredible person I've ever met, and that I want to do all I can to keep you safe. Clearly, I was wrong.” 

“Blaine...” 

“I'll see you around.” 

Kurt doesn't say a word, just watches Blaine leave. Initial anger has him studying his lines in an act of defiance, and yelling at Meredith when she attempts to talk with him. Anna fares no better either, and after throwing a pillow at her, he sinks back on his bed, his anger then showing itself in hot, burning tears. He loves to bicker with Blaine but he hates fighting with him for real, he realizes. His heart hurts to know that they're at odds with one another, but he doesn't know how to go about making it better. They're both stubborn; Blaine won't change his mind about thinking this play is a bad idea, and Kurt has committed to doing it, and there's no way he won't follow through. It's an ugly stalemate but he brings to mind what his dad had told him. In a couple of months this will all be done. They just have to hang in there until the storm passes. 

It's nearing midnight when he arrives at Blaine's apartment, but the doorman welcomes him nonetheless, and pays the massive cab fare, too. Kurt can only assume they bill Blaine for it at some point. He knocks on the penthouse door, his breath catching when Blaine answers, fresh from the shower, with just a towel around his waist. 

He doesn't say a word, just jerks his head, signalling to Kurt to come in. He does, and hovers in the hallway, not knowing where to go until Blaine kisses him tenderly, and leads him to bed. 

They make love slowly, filled with deep passion and longing for one another. Once again Blaine pulls Kurt into his lap, keeping him close, softly kissing his shoulder. 

“I need you,” he whispers as he drives inside him. “Oh God, Kurt, I need you so much.” 

Kurt cradles his head in his hands, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes in bliss. “Always,” he promises, choking back tears of emotion. “Always, I'm yours.” 

They both sleep but are up early, sharing a silent breakfast which is only enhanced in its awkwardness by the housekeepers bustling about. Kurt wishes they wouldn’t be here, just once, so that he could make his own breakfast, but he also knows it’s not his place to demand anything right now. 

“What are your plans today?”

“I have to go into the office this morning for a meeting,” Blaine says stiffly. “I have a show to watch tonight. You?”

“Work from nine through one, then rehearsals until six. So I guess we won’t see each other today.”

“I guess not.”

They go back to silence once more, and it continues until Kurt is standing by the door ready to head to the coffee shop. “Blaine? If you wanted, you could meet me from work at one? We could walk to rehearsals together. I mean, it’s not much but...”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“And uh... you could come to the show with me tonight, if you wanted? It’s not a gala, so no tux, but you’ll need to look decent.”

“Hey!” Kurt looks indignant, then realizes this is Blaine’s attempt to lighten the atmosphere, by teasing him. “I guess I can comply with that.”

“Then I’ll see you at one.” He kisses him on the cheek. “You are so hot.”

Kurt smiles, and it feels good. Blaine’s small, offhand comment puts a spring in his step and his shift at work passes so quickly that he can’t quite believe it when Blaine arrives just after twelve thirty. 

“Coffee.”

“Don’t start with that,” he says, but he makes his medium drip and sets it on the counter. “Did you miss me?”

“No.” 

Kurt grins, and watches lovingly as Blaine goes and sits in the window, unfolding a newspaper to block out the world around him. 

“Are you sure he likes you?” Karl asks, and Kurt sighs happily, and goes back to cleaning the counter. 

“Yes. He’s always like that. He doesn’t mean any of it.”

“Hmm.” Seeming to take this as some kind of challenge, Karl walks across the shop to Blaine and clears his throat. “Hi there, I’m Karl. Kurt’s friend and manager. Nice to meet you.”

Blaine glares at him, nods, then lifts his newspaper again. 

“So are you excited about Kurt’s new role? Off-Broadway lead. Isn’t that great?”

Blaine lowers the newspaper again with a huff. “Not really, no. I think he’s making a stupid mistake. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to drink my coffee and read my paper.” 

Karl retreats, his eyes wide. “You’re right, he’s really obnoxious,” he whispers to Kurt. “But if you say he doesn’t mean it then...”

“No,” Kurt says sadly. “He means that. Every word.” 

But when Kurt’s shift ends, Blaine makes no mention of the conversation with Karl, so Kurt doesn’t either. They walk the few blocks to the rehearsal studio and though Blaine doesn’t say anything, Kurt knows he’s expecting to escort him inside. 

He can’t deny he feels a massive surge of pride, to walk into the room holding Blaine’s hand. He knows heads turn, not just because Blaine is ridiculously hot and obviously wealthy, but because everyone knows who he is. Given that Kurt is a last minute replacement, they also know this is the new lead, and he feels a sense of power and confidence settling over him as he strides forward, and offers his hand to Frank. 

“Hi, Frank, good to see you. You remember Blaine Anderson, right?”

“Kurt! And yes, I do.” Frank wipes his hand on his faded denim shirt and offers it to each of them in turn. “Come to critique us already, Blaine?”

“It’s Blaine, and no, I haven’t,” he spits. “I’ve come to make sure my boyfriend is safe. I’ll sit over there.”

“You’re staying?”

“I am.” 

Kurt would like to tell Blaine that there’s really no need; he feels as though the balance is very clearly in his favor here, but he also knows that Blaine will stay whether he wants him to or not, and he doesn’t want to give Frank any hint that something might be off between the two of them, so he says nothing. 

“I didn’t realize...” Frank starts as he leads Kurt to the back of the room. 

“Since London.”

“All that time? Right. I see.”

The rehearsal goes off without a hitch. Kurt settles in well, and Blaine even steps out for a couple of hours, returning just as Kurt is finishing, and possessively grabbing his hand as soon as he is able, preventing Frank from saying anything to him. 

They don’t discuss the rehearsal; there’s no time. They rush back to Blaine’s apartment to shower and change before heading back out to Broadway, but when Kurt catches sight of Blaine, dressed in a maroon suit with a navy shirt, open at the collar, and wearing his glasses, they nearly don’t leave the apartment at all. 

“Kurt!” Blaine cries as he’s pinned to the living room wall. “We can’t. Not now.”

“Just kiss me,” Kurt begs, running a firm hand over the front of his pants. “Kiss me hard, and tell me what you want to do to me tonight.” 

“Oh fuck.” Blaine obliges with the kiss, and Kurt pulls him close. 

“Those glasses,” he groans when they part. “No tie.... Hot.” 

“I'm um... I'm trying to uh... To not look so old,” he admits, and Kurt stops rubbing him and moves his hands to his hips instead. “Not that I'm trying to look young,” he adds, seemingly confused by his own words. “But you always look so effortless, so amazing, whereas I'm always standing there next to you, looking formal and boring and miserable.” 

“Actually, I think you always look divine,” Kurt tells him sincerely. “Do you know how proud I was to be seen with you today?” 

Blaine gives a small smile and leans in, kissing him once more. “Thank you.” 

“Please don't worry. If you want to dress a little more casual then do it, but don't think it's something I need you to do because let's face it, I'm gonna undress you either way. Plus, I always worry that I don't look sharp enough in comparison to you so...” 

“So we should just stay naked all of the time,” Blaine declares. 

“Naked,” Kurt agrees happily. “Except for the glasses because damn.” 

“Down boy,” Blaine laughs. It turns into a groan when the call comes for the car though, and they leave the sanctuary of the apartment for a night on the town. 

The play is not spectacular but good enough, and they linger afterward for the press reception. Once again Kurt feels an overwhelming pride to be on Blaine's arm, and he loves the way he proudly introduces him to everyone they meet. There are a lot of other critics there, but unlike the gala they had attended, Blaine shuts down anyone who makes a cutting remark about him being with another young actor. He firmly tells people that they're very much together, have been for quite some time, and their surprise turns to quiet admiration and intrigue. 

“So are you working right now?” a reporter asks Kurt. 

“Yes, I've actually just stepped in as replacement in the Life of Riley Morton.” 

“That's Frank Fisher’s show, right? Well, someone had to, I guess.”

“Yes, but it didn't need to be Kurt,” Blaine snaps. “But he thinks he knows best.” 

“Frank’s probably trying to sleep with you,” the reporter jokes, not knowing how close she comes to the truth. “If I was you I wouldn't do it. Just look pretty and let your rich sugar daddy take care of you.” 

“He's not...” Kurt starts, but the woman just laughs and walks away. 

Kurt is further enraged when they meet another critic. Once again Blaine introduces him, but this time, when the man asks if he’s working, Blaine answers for him. 

“In his infinite wisdom, Kurt has decided to step in as replacement in the Life of Riley Morton.”

“Really?” the man asks in surprise. “Ouch.”

“Right? Talk about a waste of talent.”

“Blaine! Don't talk about me like that!” Kurt snaps. He glares at the critic, who makes a silent retreat, and then kicks Blaine’s shin for good measure. 

“What? I’m allowed to express my opinion.”

“Not to everyone we meet, you’re not.” 

He shrugs. “Okay. I won't mention it again.” 

“Really?”

“Sure.” 

It’s not what he says, but how he says it that gives Kurt cause for alarm. There’s an underlying threat to the words, a hint that Blaine is still intensely angry about him taking the role. 

“You’re completely okay with not talking about it?”

“You're right. It's none of my business what you do, just as it's not your place to interfere in my job. So let’s just carry on as normal and avoid any and all discussion of our respective careers, okay?”

Stunned, Kurt wants to object, but he also thinks any argument would now sound weak. He knows what Blaine is doing; which is to twist his words about and make them work for him instead, but he’s too tired and confused to have any comeback. “Thank you,” he says meekly and then, like a switch is flipped, Blaine smiles brightly.

“Any time.” He finishes his glass of champagne, sets the glass down and eyes Kurt carefully. Slowly, he takes his glasses from the inside pocket of his jacket and puts them on, a devilish grin spreading over his face. “Do you want to come home with me?” 

The dark tension between them is forgotten in favor of desire, Kurt gulps, bringing one hand up to the lapel of his jacket. “If I do, will you rim me while wearing those?” 

Blaine doesn't reply, but firmly guides Kurt from the room and out to the car. 

True to his word, Blaine doesn't mention the play, Frank Fisher, or Kurt’s role at all over the next couple of weeks. It's like it doesn't exist. That would be fine, except that he refuses to discuss his own job either, and Kurt misses the easy conversations about theatre that they used to have.

The unspoken hangs between them and slowly drives a wedge deeper and deeper as the weeks move on. Time together is hard to find; rehearsals are intense for Kurt and, unbeknownst to him, Blaine has started writing essays for The Arts of NYC, a prestigious performance art related magazine, as well as his work for the New York News. This keeps him busy with attending functions, art exhibitions, live shows and meetings and somehow, it becomes harder than ever for the two of them to even find time for coffee. 

Under all the stress, and feeling more adrift from Blaine than ever, Kurt becomes tired and grumpy. It doesn’t help that he hates every second of rehearsals. The more the show takes shape, the more Kurt realizes it’s a truly awful piece of theatre. He doesn’t know what he was thinking when he took the role but, stubborn as always, he won’t admit it to himself, or anyone else. 

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks him over dinner one night. He waits for the waiter to depart and then reaches over the table, taking Kurt’s hand. “You look like you want to say something. You’ve realized I was right, haven’t you? Rehearsals aren’t going well?”

“Going great, actually,” Kurt says angrily. “No thanks to you and your complete lack of faith in me. I was only going to say that since I’m so busy, and I need to focus on my role, I won’t be staying over until after the show is done.” 

He looks away, saddled with the burden of his lie and missing the utter devastation in Blaine’s eyes. “But it's still a week until you open, then it's a four week run.” 

“It's just better this way,” Kurt tells his wine glass. “I'm never home, Blaine. I miss my own bed.” 

“You said my bed was like a cloud.” 

“It's not up for negotiation.” 

“No, nothing ever is, with you, is it?” 

“What's that supposed to mean? Is this about the role again?” 

“Of course it is! I know you, Kurt. I know you're not enjoying it, I can see it in your eyes, hear it in every word you speak. Don't sit there, giving me crap about how wonderful it is. You live for the stage and you're not living for this. You hate it, you know you made a huge fucking mistake but you're too damn stubborn to admit it.” 

“Careful, Blaine, you're on dangerous ground, here.” 

“Am I? Well you know what, Kurt? I really don't think I care.” 

He drains his wine, and signals to the waiter to bring the check. 

“Hey!” Kurt objects. “We haven’t even eaten!” 

“I’m suddenly not hungry,” Blaine snaps, angrily shoving his credit card at the waiter. “I’m going. You can get your own cab home.”


	13. Chapter 13

“So are you still together?” 

Kurt sighs, and draws his knees up to his chest. “I don't know,” he tells Anna honestly. “I think so, but he's not calling me. It's weird, but I've only just noticed that he's usually the one calling, texting, asking to see me. Now there's nothing.” 

“You could call him?” 

“I did. Three times already today, and it goes to voicemail each time.” 

Meredith hands him a mug of coffee, settling next to him on the couch. “I'll tell you what I think.” 

“Really, there's no need.” 

“I'm telling you anyway,” she declares. “You're four days from opening night. Give him a couple of days space, then call him and ask if he’ll be there. If he says yes, then ask if you can stay over that night. I think that once the play opens, once he sees you in action, he’ll forget all about not wanting you to take the role, you'll stop worrying, and it'll all be okay again.” 

Kurt gives a tight smile, but shakes his head. “I don't think it will be. I think he’ll be even more horrified than he was when I accepted.” 

“Why?” 

“Because the show is really shitty.” He takes a deep breath, and then starts to cry. “He was right,” he says, his voice shaking with emotion. “It's the most hideous story, I'm positive it's going to offend countless people, and Frank’s tried to put this awful comedic spin on it.... The songs are lame, I've got no heart for it, and Frank just stares at me the whole damn time. He hasn't said or done anything, but it unsettles me just the same. He made some pointed remark about Blaine only having come to the first rehearsal, and then today he asked if there was trouble in paradise. I feel like he's biding his time. Ugh. God. It's all such a mess.” 

“Well you can't quit now,” Anna helpfully points out. “But you can call Blaine and tell him all of this, and I really think you should.” 

It's another two days before Blaine picks up his phone though, and when he does, his manner ensures Kurt won't be telling him anything at all. It seems as though his sadness and upset has been replaced by a burning anger, which in turn riles Kurt and makes him lash out. 

“I've been working,” Blaine snaps when Kurt asks where he's been. “You know, that thing I used to do before I got blinded by you.” 

“Working so hard you couldn't return my calls?” 

“No, I didn't want to return your calls because you're a brat.” 

“Don't call me that. At least, not when you mean it. You could've called me back.” 

“I didn't want to.” 

“Thanks. Are you even going to bother coming to opening night?” 

“Someone's got to.” 

“I don't need you, Blaine, so don't make out like you're indispensable. My dad’s flying in, I've got the girls, and Meredith's parents will come, so I've got support. You wanna be there then fine, but don't make the effort on my account because really, I'm not bothered.” 

But Blaine does show, and arrives at Kurt's dressing room a half hour before curtain, dressed immaculately in a gray suit with a red tie, and holding an enormous bunch of flowers. 

He enters without knocking, and Kurt turns away from the mirror, his whole face lighting up. “Blaine!” 

Blaine's face drops to find the small room full of people he doesn't know, plus Anna, Meredith, and Frank. “Hey,” he says awkwardly. “These are for you. Break a leg.” 

“Don't go,” Kurt calls when Blaine turns his back. “Stay. I want you to meet...” 

But Blaine is gone, and Kurt is torn between running after him or sinking down into his chair, which is the option he chooses. 

“He hates me.” 

“He does not,” Anna tells him firmly. “He thought you'd be alone, I think, and he was disappointed to see that wasn't the case.” 

“So that's the old guy, huh?” Kurt's dad asks. “Could he be any colder?” 

“Blaine Anderson is a hard, cruel man,” Frank says, stepping in. “He certainly doesn't treat Kurt with the respect he deserves.” 

“Fuck off, Frank,” Kurt snarls, and neither his dad nor Meredith's mom reprimand him for his language. “You have no idea about Blaine, none at all. No one here knows how loving and kind he can be. How he makes me laugh, makes me feel so safe, so cared for. No one sees us when we’re alone, when he holds me and makes me feel so good about myself. You know what? He's the first guy I've met who likes me exactly as I am, and doesn't want me to change. People think he's this bastard but he's not. Not to me, and he never would be, either.” 

“I've had enough of this,” Meredith declares. “Anna, come with me.” 

Kurt feels so weary he doesn't even question their leaving, but he does flash Meredith's dad a grateful smile when they leave too, and drag Frank from the room with them. 

“You're really wrapped up in him, aren't you?” Burt asks. 

“Yes. And I've been a total fool.” 

“I don't think you can pin it all on yourself; he's not been the most gracious about your decision.” 

“Not recently, no. But I think he tried to make me see what a big mistake I was making and then his patience ran out. This is when I miss Logan, you know? I could've called him, he would've come over and knocked some sense into me. Everything hurts, dad, and it's my opening night as lead in the most high profile show I've done so far. I should be buzzing, but I'm not. I just want to cry.” 

“Don't cry.” 

But the voice doesn't come from his dad. Blaine stands in the doorway, backed by Anna and Meredith, who holds her thumbs up and grins. 

“I really don't like it when you cry. You go all blotchy and snotty, and you look about twelve.” 

“Fuck off,” Kurt says, but then he smiles and gets to his feet. “Come meet my dad, Burt. Dad, this is Blaine.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Burt says, offering his hand. 

Blaine shakes it, but it's all awkward as hell and he doesn't say a word. 

“You uh... You want me to go?” Burt asks Kurt. 

“Yes please,” Blaine answers, but Burt ignores him and waits for his son to answer. 

“Uh yeah, please dad,” Kurt says quietly. “I'll see you after the show.” 

“Okay. Good luck, sunshine.” He kisses his son’s cheek, glares at Blaine and leaves. 

“It's break a leg, if you're doing a show,” Blaine mutters. 

“He's not used to that,” Kurt says. “He thinks that's asking for trouble.” 

“Ridiculous.” 

“That's my dad. Don't.” 

“Fine. Look, those girls said you were upset so...” 

“I'm fine.” 

“Are you feeling nervous?” 

“No,” Kurt lies. “I'm confident it'll be a success.” 

“Well I hope so,” Blaine says with a smirk. “Because there's a full house, and an awful lot of press.” 

“Really? Well, I guess they think it'll be good too.” 

“No, they think an upbeat, lively musical about a racist child killer is something that has to be seen to be believed...and slated in the next day’s press.”

“Look, if you've only come here to irritate me then please leave. You're making me more and more angry each time I see you.” 

“I miss you, Kurt.” 

He shrugs. “You've got a funny way of showing it.” But he can’t deny that his words flood him with warmth. 

“Always,” Blaine says quietly, a smile playing on his lips. “You know me.” 

Kurt nods, then sinks into a chair, holding his head in his hands. “I'm terrified, Blaine,” he admits with a sigh. “The show is terrible, Frank is breathing down my neck, I've got four more weeks of this shit and I don't think I can handle it, I really don't.” 

“Oh hush, you can. Come here, come on.” 

Pulling Kurt to his feet, he takes him in his arms, holding him tight. “You can do this. You're the strongest person I know. Far stronger than I am, that's for sure.” 

“I doubt that very much.” He hugs Blaine back hard, gripping the back of his jacket tightly. “You always feel so amazing.” 

“So do you. We fit, don't we, you and I?” 

“We really do.” He pulls back slightly, nuzzling against his jaw. “God, I've missed you too. So much. You know what would make me feel better?” 

“I can't rim you in here. Though I do have my glasses.” 

“No!” He giggles, happy to see Blaine smiling brightly. “I mean, if that's on offer for later then I'm all for it, but for now a kiss will suffice.” 

Everything falls into place when Blaine kisses him. He knows he sighs, and he knows his knees sag as he sinks deeper into his embrace, but Blaine holds him strong, safe, secure. Kurt knows he matters, he knows he's exactly where Blaine needs him to be, and that makes him kiss back passionately, his hands moving up instinctively to those curls he's come to love so much. 

Kurt's five minute call comes over the intercom but they still don't part; too wrapped up in each other to listen to anything else. In the end it is Frank who throws open the dressing room door, his anger evident. 

“No lead waiting in the wings and two minutes to curtain!” he bellows. “I might have known you'd show up again,” he snarls at Blaine when they pull apart. “I don't even know how you're here, since I made sure they didn't send any comp tickets to any of your publications.” 

“I bought my ticket,” Blaine says airily. “To support my boyfriend.” He turns his back on Frank, lovingly kissing Kurt again. “Break a leg, beautiful. I'll see you after the show.” 

Feeling better than he has in weeks, Kurt sails past Frank, out of the door and down to the wings, where he waits for the music to start. 

The show is not good. In fact, it's so terrible that after intermission, the amount of empty seats is undeniable. Kurt notices this from the wings, and he can sense the animosity from the audience as the show continues. Applause at the end is lukewarm at best, and his spirit crushed, he retreats to his dressing room, closes the door and sinks to the floor. 

He knows his dad will be waiting, and Blaine too, but right now he can't face anyone at all. He thinks back to three weeks ago, to the night he had told Blaine he'd taken the part. 

“You didn't stop me,” he says through a stream of tears when Blaine marches into the dressing room five minutes later. 

“Kurt?” Blaine crouches next to him on the floor, tenderly running a hand over his hair. 

“You didn't stop me! All this time you've let me carry on making a complete fool of myself and why?” 

“What?”

“You knew! You knew how bad it was gonna be, and yet you let me go on!”

“That is bullshit!” Blaine explodes, unaware that Anna, Meredith and Burt have come into the room behind him. He gets to his feet, running a hand through his hair. “I tried so many times, Kurt! I tried pleading with you, begging you...hell, I even demanded it. In the end, I shut up about it because I was so fucking scared I would lose you over it all! And now you’re blaming me for the way it's all turned out? Well maybe I should’ve demanded you quit, maybe I should’ve been the overbearing, cold, shit of a guy that everyone expects me to be because you know what? I made the mistake of falling for you, of thinking you felt the same but all along you were just the demanding brat I always assumed you were. You don’t want me unless it’s all on your terms Kurt. I’m not allowed to interfere in your career, to offer advice, to try and help you out, until suddenly you want me to, and then I’m blamed for not doing enough.   
You chose to take the role. Frank wrote this shitfest but you can't blame anyone for your part in it but yourself. You know what? Go be his fuckboy instead, because I’m done.” 

He storms out, pushing past everyone to pull open the door- just as Frank is standing on the other side. 

“And you can fuck off, too,” he snarls, then lands the most almighty right hook to his jaw. 

“You shit!” Frank screams, clutching his face. “Did you see what he just did to me? Did you see that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Burt says, rolling his eyes. “I’d say you’ve got more important things to worry about, wouldn’t you? Like the angry baying mob who are waiting to question you on the way you portrayed black people in that show?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” 

“Dad, let’s just go,” Kurt says morosely as Anna helps him to his feet. “I think I just want to go drown my sorrows right now.” 

It’s a sad end to a bleak evening; Burt takes them all to an Italian restaurant but the girls barely pick at their meals and Kurt doesn’t touch anything except the wine, which he gets through at a steady pace in between bouts of tears. 

“It’s not even my career I’m upset about,” he says sadly. “Blaine is just... gone.” 

“Did you have any idea he felt so strongly for you?” Burt asks, and Kurt shakes his head. 

“He dropped hints about caring for me deeply, but that? Falling for me? No.”

“And how do you feel for him?”

“Honestly? I’d marry him tomorrow if he asked.”

“I thought you hated each other?” Anna asks in confusion. “I mean, I just don’t get it. When Meredith and I went to get him, he was sitting in his seat, staring straight ahead and he looked... I don’t know.”

“Broken,” Meredith interjects. “He looked broken. I didn’t realize, until that moment, how much this was taking its toll on him, but then I could see.”

“And when we spoke with him, he just kinda stared,” Anna carries on. “And then he nodded, when we asked him to come back, and he said ‘Do you think Kurt...’ but he cut himself off. I don’t think he necessarily means to be rude, or to not speak, but I think he holds stuff back, deliberately.”

“He does,” Kurt confirms. “Because his family never appreciated him for who he was. So he doesn’t say stuff, because he thinks nobody's interested in his thoughts, unless they’re outrageous, and written in a review.”

Burt reaches out, putting an arm around his son’s shoulders. “Are you interested in his thoughts? In how he feels?”

“Of course!” 

“Then go to him. It might take time, but I think you can both fix it, if you really want to.” 

By the time he’s showered, changed, and mentally prepared himself, it’s one thirty in the morning when he arrives at Blaine’s building. This time, however, the doorman doesn’t rush to pay the cab fare and he flounders for a second, before handing over his credit card. 

He takes the stairs all the way to the top floor; too embarrassed to wait for the elevator, with the result that he’s sweating and breathing hard when he reaches the penthouse door. 

Blaine is still dressed, but his tie and jacket are gone. He opens the door, rolls his eyes, and walks back into the living room. 

“Can I come in?”

“You are in.”

Kurt closes the door behind him, feeling oddly nervous and unsure of how to proceed. After lingering in the hallway, he follows Blaine into the living room but he doesn’t sit on the couch next to him; he stands in the middle of the room and takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“I um... I don’t know what to do or say to make this right,” Kurt admits. “I’ve said some awful stuff to you, and I’ve hurt you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?”

“Remember when we first met, and you said you were fighting a battle I knew nothing about? I assume you meant getting over losing Logan. I don’t dispute the hurt his death must’ve caused you, but you know what? I’m enduring my own loss, too, only I lost three people in one go, and they’re still alive. I’m not saying death is easier, but I had three people whom I loved with all my heart, telling me they didn’t want me anymore, and placing the blame for it at my door. Tonight, yet again, you placed the blame at my door. I am not responsible for your decision to do that show, any more than I’m to blame for being gay. I put my trust in you, I let you in...you’re the only person I’ve ever felt this way for...and you blame me, just like they blame me. So don’t worry about it, Kurt, really. You’re not the first person to hurt me, but you’ll definitely be the last.” 

Distraught, all Kurt can do is stand there and cry. Blaine says nothing; he doesn’t even look at him and in the end, Kurt turns and goes home. 

After a sleepless night, when he cries harder than he has since losing Logan, Kurt falls into a fitful sleep as dawn breaks, which is filled with images of his brother’s stern disapproval over the way he’s treated the one man who would have healed him, who made him come alive once more. 

It takes him a while to hear the frantic hammering on the apartment door, and when he finally wakes properly and staggers to answer it, Anna and Meredith have beaten him to it. 

Burt stands there, holding a newspaper in his hands, the anger rolling off him. “What the hell? This boyfriend of yours is a liar, Kurt! An out and out liar! What kind of man stands there, telling someone he’s fallen for them, burdening them with guilt over how they’ve been acting, and all the time they’re happy to get their own petty revenge. Who does that? Blaine Anderson better pray I don’t find him before my flight leaves, because he won’t stand a chance.”

“What the hell are you talking about, dad?” Kurt asks in confusion. “Blaine is... Oh my God.” The penny drops and he takes the newspaper, sitting down at the kitchen table. “He reviewed the show, didn’t he?” He finds the arts section quickly, that old familiar dread creeping in as he starts to read.

Review: The Life of Riley Morton at The Wyman.

It’s always frustrating when you’re forced to watch a prestigious talent wasting themselves in a dirge of a show, but it’s even more infuriating when that talent is Kurt Hummel, and you’ve spent the better part of a month telling him not to take the role.   
Last night, I, along with several other critics, had the misfortune to attend the premiere of Frank Fisher’s latest musical, The Life of Riley Morton. Based on the real-life 1928 Massachusetts murder case, Morton was an evil, sadistic killer who slaughtered several innocent children, all of whom were black.   
Fisher has been attempting to make it onto Broadway for several years now with no luck, but this might be his most spectacular fail to date. Given that there are still several relatives associated with the case on all sides still alive, a little tact and sensitivity wouldn’t go amiss but alas, with Fisher’s production, there is none.   
I wish I was joking when I say that Hummel, as Morton, sings and tap dances around a graveyard shortly after the funeral of his first three year old victim. Another upbeat number, complete with showgirl chorus, has Hummel loudly proclaiming his victim’s parents to be overplaying their grief.   
The musical contains little to no empathy, heart, or soul. I think this is supposed to be a weird attempt at humor but it comes off as sick and depraved. After this, I would be surprised if Fisher ever manages to get the backing to make another musical again.   
Sadly, and on a more personal note, I will also be surprised if Mr Hummel manages to secure any other role. It’s not that his performance is bad; he can sing, and dance, and he gives a fairly decent turn as a malicious killer, but the nature of the show is such that he will be forever tainted by this role and his career will undoubtedly suffer because of it. Perhaps he’s now learned his lesson; that quality and integrity are far more important in roles than a big paycheck and the chance to be a leading man. Perhaps he’ll also learn to listen to those who hold his best interests at heart, and try to advise him accordingly. Knowing Mr Hummel though, I doubt it.

Blaine Anderson


	14. Chapter 14

Blaine’s housekeeper looks terrified when she timidly answers the door to Kurt’s wild banging. Pushing past her, he marches through to the dining room, where the breakfast table is still waiting for Blaine to arrive. 

“Where is he?”

“Mr Kurt, he asked me to...”

“Where is he?” he yells again, then runs back down the hall to the bedroom, which is empty. 

“Mr Blaine is busy. He...”

“Bullshit,” he shouts, then finds the door that leads to the gym. 

Blaine is lying flat on a bench, lifting, but Kurt’s angry footsteps have him setting the weight down as quickly as he can. “Kurt...”

“You BASTARD! You piece of shit!” Kurt screams. Entirely full of rage, he throws the newspaper at Blaine and then attacks him, landing blows wherever he can. Blaine is stronger though, and catches his wrists, holding him at arm’s length. 

“Don’t you dare.” He manages to stand, still holding Kurt, who spits at him. “Stop it.” 

“FUCK YOU!” 

Blaine releases his wrists, and steps back. “You read the review, huh?”

“How could you do that to me, Blaine, HOW? You guilt tripped me last night, made me think I was the one who had ruined it all, but you’d already sent it, hadn’t you? When I got here, you’d written that, and submitted it, and you knew what was to come. That’s why you wouldn’t speak with me.”

“No,” Blaine says calmly. “I wouldn’t speak with you because you blamed me for your poor decision. Yes, I’d already written the review, but that wasn’t why I guilt tripped you, as you put it. I wanted to tell you, to make you see how much you’ve hurt me.”

“Because you haven’t hurt me?” Kurt asks, his voice cracking along with his heart.

“It’s my job to review the show, just as it's your job to act in it.”

“But it’s not though, is it? Frank said he didn’t send you a comp ticket on purpose. You came of your own volition, so the paper wasn't expecting nor requiring you to review it. And even if you did review it, even if you gave it the zero stars that you did, why did you write all that stuff about me?”

“To try and make you see sense, since talking with you doesn’t work.”

“You’ve ruined me! It was bad enough when I was starting out, and you wrote all those ugly comments, but this? This is a whole other level. People know we’re together. The circles we move in are one and the same. Each and every director in this town, hell, probably across the country and in Europe, knows who you are. They’ll take one look at my name and know I’m the guy whose boyfriend publicly dissed him. Thank you, Blaine. It’s not the show that’s ensured I’ll never work again, it’s you.” 

“You’ll work again.” Blaine shrugs. “In time.”

“You’re entirely unrepentant!” Kurt screams. “I don’t believe you!”

“What do you want me to say? I wrote my thoughts on the play and the lead’s performance, nothing more, nothing less. It’s work. I didn’t slander you, I didn’t spill your secrets, I merely tried to make you aware that I do care, and that I tried my damndest to stop you from doing that show.”

“I want you to be sorry!” Kurt cries desperately. “Because you know what? All you said last night holds true for me as well. I fell for you, I let you in, I let you heal me in spite of my head which was telling me this was a bad idea. I told you things I’d never tell anyone, like how much it means to me to be held by someone who cares for me, because that’s what I miss about him. He was my brother, and my best friend and I thought- stupidly thought- that you were my best friend too, my companion, the one who would hold my hand and tell me everything would be okay. But you sold me out, all for the sake of a story.”

“Kurt, I’m....” 

“Save it,” Kurt says, choking on a sob. “It’s over, okay? Us, this fling, or whatever it was, which seemingly meant nothing to you, it’s done, finished.” 

In a flash, Blaine’s eyes turn dark and he steps forward, holding a finger up to Kurt’s face. “Don’t do this,” he warns, his voice low. “You hurt me and I hurt you. In my eyes, we’re even. But if you walk away now, there’s no coming back. I don’t chase, Kurt. I never have and I never will, not even for you.”

“That’s fine,” Kurt says, holding his head high. “Because I don’t want you near me ever again.” 

For two weeks, there is a resounding silence. Kurt refuses to talk about what has happened, not to his roommates, his dad, and especially not to Frank, who easily guesses that they’re no longer together. 

After just four performances, The Life of Riley Morton is forced to close. Kurt is filled with relief. He picks up extra shifts at the coffee shop and doesn’t even attempt to audition for anything. 

He hurts. Day and night, his heart and his body ache for Blaine, but he knows he can’t move past what he did. He cries often, and Anna and Meredith tiptoe around him, tentatively reminding him that they’re here, should he need to talk, but talking would mean remembering, and processing, and Kurt doesn’t want to do either. 

It’s a beautiful day, the late spring sunshine is warm, and many customers sit outside. Kurt notices nothing about the weather, until the thunderstorm which seems to come out of nowhere. Just like the sun, the customers take flight, apart from the few inside, and he and Karl stand side by side at the counter, watching the rain lash across the road. 

The door opens, and Blaine bursts in just as he had all those months back, shaking rain from his hair and looking decidedly annoyed. Only before, he also looked pristine and now he looks like hell. 

He has a beard, which is far more gray than black, the result of not shaving for the past two weeks. He wears navy pants and a black sweater, and Kurt knows he would never normally even think of that. Okay, so the sweater is cashmere but there’s no collar underneath and now he’s soaking wet, with hair hanging in his eyes, which are dull and lifeless. Standing before Kurt now, a shadow of his usual self, Blaine shivers. “Hey.”

“What do you want?”

“To see you.”

“What? This can’t be to chase me, can it? You don’t chase anyone, as I recall. Not even me.”

“Kurt, I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He glances across to Karl, sees he has no intention of moving, and swallows his pride. “What I did was unforgivable, I know, but I miss you.”

“It was unforgivable, yes.”

“Come to dinner with me. We can talk.”

“No!” 

“Just a drink then? Coffee? I’ll wait until you have a break.”

“No! You’re not listening to me. You can’t order me to dinner, Blaine. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to see you now please, leave me alone.” 

“I can’t.” He shrugs, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “I made the mistake last time of not pushing hard enough, and it drove us apart. So I’m telling you, Kurt Hummel, I want you back. You might not want that right now, but I’m going to keep working on you until you change your mind.”

He walks away, back out into the rain, and Kurt leans on the counter, resting his head in his hands. “Oh my God.”

“He is so obnoxious,” Karl says with a dreamy sigh. “I can see why you fell for him. Damn. He’s a bastard but he’s all forceful...dominant. Is he a good lover? I’ll bet he’s hot as hell.”

“Yes he is. Very.” Kurt answers without thinking, then silently reprimands himself for the burning in his loins. “Karl, are you even gay?”

“Nope,” he says brightly. “But that man? I so would.” 

It’s two hours before the flowers arrive, and they’re so big that the courier can barely see past them. The card simply says ‘Love, Blaine,’ and Kurt makes Karl take them home to his mom. 

Two days later, more flowers arrive. This time they come to the apartment, along with the beautiful blue glass vase that Kurt had often admired in Blaine’s apartment. 

“Why the fuck is he giving me his castoffs?” He grumbles while Anna and Meredith joyfully arrange roses in numerous containers. 

“It’s not his castoffs, he wants you to have it. I think it’s romantic,” Anna says, but Kurt storms off to his room, and slams the door for good measure. 

Two days after that, it’s a set of Louis Vuitton luggage, in navy, because Kurt had often told Blaine he thought navy was a classy color. He’s baffled why he would send him a set of suitcases though, until the courier hands him a plane ticket back to Wisconsin for the next day. 

“Joke’s on him,” Kurt says when he tells Karl later that day. “Because I’ve got shifts lined up tomorrow and all weekend.”

“Yeah, no you haven’t,” Karl announces. “Hot stuff came in here, all clean shaven and handsome in a suit, and asked me to cover it. Oh, and it’s paid vacation, before you flip out.”

Of course, Karl refuses to divulge who exactly is paying Kurt for his time off, but he takes the flight anyway, figuring time with his dad is something he’ll always appreciate. 

“I got a letter,” Burt says as soon as they’re home. “From your man.”

“You what? And he’s not my man.”

“He apologized for being rude when we met; said he was nervous to meet me and then it was unexpected, so he wasn’t ready.”

“I hate him.”

“He also said he’d hurt you, and he deeply regrets it. Congratulated me on raising such a caring young man.”

“Ugh.”

“Are you being caring to him, Kurt?”

“I’m letting him send me gifts.”

“Kurt! You know what I mean. He did hurt you, yes, but I think he knows he has a long way to go to make that up to you. At the same time, though, you hurt him. Are you doing anything to make amends?” 

The presents continue. Day after day, Kurt receives flowers, clothes, chocolates, wine, but Blaine never calls. He writes a letter to Anna and Meredith, apologizing for being rude in their presence, and asking them to please forgive him. Included are three tickets to the sold out run of Madame Butterfly, plus paid for dinner reservations, and Kurt is dragged along. He begrudgingly admits he’s enjoyed it. 

“Thank Blaine, not us,” Meredith says with a nudge. 

“I’m not contacting him.”

“Oh I have had it!” Anna suddenly shouts, giving them all a shock. “Kurt Hummel, do you know my biggest regret? I broke it off with your brother after a petty, stupid fight. We could have reconciled if I hadn’t been so stubborn, but I was, and then suddenly he was gone. I have to live with that for the rest of my days. Knowing that I loved him, but I was too damn proud to say sorry. Blaine has put aside his pride, admitted his weaknesses not only to you, but to us and your dad as well. Now it’s time for you to do the same. Call him, Kurt, make amends, before it’s too late.” 

The next day, Kurt is still contemplating her words when another gift arrives. The box is small, but heavy, and he gasps when he opens it to find an elegant Cartier watch nestled inside. 

“Holy shit!” Meredith pulls up short when she walks into the kitchen. “That’s Cartier! You know those cost like fifty thousand dollars, right?” 

“He wants to buy me.”

“Oh don’t be dumb. He’s trying to say sorry, you moron, in the only way he knows how. There’s a note. Read it.”

“Kurt, I know you hate me. I hate myself...but I know how I feel for you. I am so deeply sorry for writing that review. I was upset, and I lashed out in the only way I knew to make people listen to me. It was wrong, and I feel awful. Please, just give me a chance to apologize face to face and after that, you can walk away. I desperately want you back, but above all, I want you to be happy. All my love, Blaine.” 

“Fuck.” 

An hour later, he pulls up in a cab outside of Blaine’s apartment. He is greeted warmly, the fare is taken care of and the elevator operator is ready and waiting, but Kurt is focused on the Cartier box in his hand, and nothing else. 

“Please stop,” he says as soon as Blaine answers the door. 

“Kurt, I um...I just...” 

He hands the box over. “Just stop. It's enough, okay?” 

Blaine drops his head meekly, setting the watch on the hall table. “Okay.” 

“I can't let you keep doing this. All these gifts, these notes, the letters to my dad, my roommates.” 

“That was... I'm just aware that I'm not a very nice person and I wanted to...” 

“Stop,” Kurt says firmly. He pushes him back into the apartment, closing the door behind him. “It's too much, because I need to apologize too, and I can't lavish gifts on you, I haven't got anyone to write. I just need you to know that I am so incredibly sorry for the way I acted. I love to pick fights with you. I love to wind you up on purpose, it's what we do, you and I, but this was me deliberately being mean, refusing to listen and then acting out. You were right; I had no one to blame for my poor decisions except for myself. The fact that you stood by me, that you tried so many times to help me, well, that means a hell of a lot.   
I was so hurt by that review, and I won't deny it, but the devotion you showed to me when I was stubbornly insisting that I knew best, and the way you tried to protect me...that far outweighs it. Your determination to win me back, and the way you've apologized so many times kinda means everything too,” he admits, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. “The fact is, Blaine... You make me so incredibly happy. I didn't think I'd ever feel this way, after Logan died. I thought I'd just exist...but you made me live. I've dated guys, cared for them, but I've never felt anything like the way I feel when I'm with you. So I might not have any fancy jewelry for you, but I do have my heart, if you'll take it, because it's yours.” 

Blaine cuts him off with a firm, intense kiss. He holds Kurt so tightly that he can barely breathe, but he doesn't mind one bit. In fact, he ends up breaking the kiss so that he can cuddle close, nuzzling in under his jaw. 

“I've been an idiot, Kurt. I'm so sorry.” 

“Can we just say that we both were, and that's the end of it?” 

“I swear I'll make it up to you.” 

“Just cuddle me.” 

“Ugh. See? I didn't miss your stupid cuddles one bit.” 

“Yeah I'll bet you didn't.” 

They laugh, but then suddenly Blaine gives a choked-off sob, and clutches him. “I thought I'd lost you, Kurt.” 

“Never.” 

Blaine pulls back, quickly wiping at his eyes. Kurt doesn't make an issue of it, but it makes him want to cry too, to see him so moved with emotion. 

“Uh...come get a drink, or something,” he mutters, embarrassed, and he takes his hand and leads him down to the kitchen. “Whiskey?” 

“Blaine, it's not even eleven.” 

“Oh. Right. I don't know what to say, or do.” 

“You could... You could kiss me again, if you want?” 

Blaine smiles, pulls Kurt close, and gently brushes their lips together. He pulls back for a moment, just to study him, but then he goes back in for more and this time, both of them fall into the kiss together, moaning softly when they feel their tongues brushing together. Kurt would like the kiss to never end; he's pressed into the corner between two kitchen cabinets, with Blaine pushed tightly against him and he brings one leg up, wrapping it around the back of his thigh. 

Blaine gets the idea, and grabs Kurt’s leg, pulling it higher and grinding against him. All the while, the kiss never breaks, and Kurt’s head is swimming with all things Blaine, especially when he can feel his arousal. 

“Where are your staff?” he asks, breaking away with a gasp.

Dazed, Blaine looks over his shoulder. “I don't know,” he shrugs. “Somewhere. They knock off at twelve.” 

“So we have an hour until we can get loud?” 

Blaine laughs, kissing softly at the base of his neck. “Yes.” 

“Come on. Let's make some cookies.” 

“Is that a joke?” 

“No.” 

“I could be on my knees by now.” 

“Not with other people in the house!” Kurt maneuvers him out of the way, and starts to rummage in cupboards.

“Cookies,” Blaine moans, his head falling back in despair. “This is not why I wanted you back. Coming in here, making a mess, baking cookies. Who wants cookies? Cookies, and damn cuddles. You're ruining me again.” 

“And you love it.” 

Blaine grabs him around the waist from behind, kissing his neck. “I really do.” 

Blaine doesn’t do much baking. He spends most of the time trying to get his hands under Kurt’s shirt, or down the back of his pants- anywhere he’ll let him. When the cookies are done, they curl up on the couch to eat them and drink coffee, and Kurt cherishes being with Blaine like this again, chatting easily, feeling safe and secure in the comfort of his arms. 

“Kurt? Are we totally good? I mean, I know how much you like to talk, so I don't want to assume everything’s fine and then find out you're waiting for me to address some deep and meaningful issue that I'm entirely unaware of.” 

Kurt snuggles closer, rubbing a reassuring hand over his chest. “We are totally, completely, good. I promise. I think we've both said all we need to say and this? Right now? This is what I've missed the most.”

Content, Blaine holds him that little bit tighter. “Me too.” 

“You know, I’m almost disappointed the show closed,” Kurt says lightly. He lets his fingers travel under Blaine’s soft sweater to where he can trace the trail of dark hair. “I’d love to rub this in Frank’s face.”

“Oh he’ll hear about it,” Blaine murmurs, his eyes closed. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You know, that night, when you punched him? It was all kinds of awesome.”

“Ha! I wasn't intending to. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t try anything with you, did he?”

“No. I think he was biding his time, but the show closed before he had the chance.”

“I heard he’d tried to pitch it out in LA.”

“Really?”

“An ex-colleague told me. I might’ve told him exactly what I thought.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“He won’t work again.”

“Neither will I.”

“Oh hey, no, Kurt, that’s not what I meant.” He sits, bringing Kurt up with him, and kissing his cheek. “We’ll sort this, I promise. I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me? I mean, I can’t give you a role, but I can make sure people know you’re better than that show. Come with me to stuff. As much as you can. I can introduce you, people will get used to seeing you around and then they’ll already know you as a person when auditions come about.”

“You don’t want me tagging along all the time.”

“Kurt trust me, I’d have you with me twenty four seven, if I could.”

“That’s very nice.”

“Well, maybe not twenty four seven, since sometimes you annoy me. Maybe more like twenty three. Or just three.”

“Shut up!” Kurt laughs, digging him in the ribs and tackling him backwards until he’s sitting astride him. “You need to say sorry for that rude remark, Mr Anderson.” 

“Goddamn, I like you being up there,” Blaine says. He keeps their hands laced together, but subtly shifts beneath him, biting his lip. “And I’m very sorry I was rude. Again.” 

“Mr Blaine, we are going now. We... Ahhh!” The housekeeper beams to see the two of them sharing a moment. “Mr Kurt is back. Carla! Mr Kurt is back.”

“Yes, thank you, Rosa,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes when Carla appears too. “And you, Carla. See you both tomorrow.”

Kurt stays sitting astride Blaine, staring helplessly at the two women, who retreat into the hallway and finally close the door behind them. Then he looks back to Blaine, whose eyes are already darkening. “Race you.”

They tear down the hallway, pulling off their clothes as they go and then naked, they tumble back onto the bed together, grinning with euphoria. 

“You are so very, very hot,” Blaine murmurs. He kisses Kurt’s neck, moving down to his collarbone. “Please ride me. Take control.”

Kurt sits up. “What?”

“Is that not...?”

“No, no, that is more than perfect. I’m just stunned that you’d relinquish control, that’s all. Of anything. Ever.”

“Well get on with it then, before I change my mind.” 

Though he is tentative at first, Kurt relishes everything about making love with Blaine again. His touch makes his body sing, and he cries out several times, just from the indescribable pleasure his fingers bring. 

Blaine is responsive, and very vocal, especially when Kurt takes him into his mouth. He holds tight to Kurt’s hair, and though it's killing him not to drive his hips up, he’s true to his word and lets Kurt run the show. 

“Jesus fuck!” Blaine cries when Kurt finally sinks down around him. “Oh I’ve missed you. This. Us. You’re perfect.” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” He yelps when Blaine smacks his ass, but then he slowly starts to ride him, drawing it out for as long as he possibly can. He’s desperate to go hard and fast, but he knows this is driving Blaine wild so he holds off, until Blaine grips his thighs hard and draws his knees up underneath him. 

“Please, Kurt, I’m begging you! You’re driving me crazy. Please, please!” 

Kurt obliges, digging his knees into the bed, resting his hands on Blaine’s chest, and riding him as hard as he can. “Blaine...I need you to...”

His hand is there and the second he touches him, Kurt comes, right at the same time as Blaine. Both of them cry out loudly, and Kurt feels his orgasm ripping through him for the longest time, while Blaine pulses inside of him. Suddenly, it's all too much and he collapses forward onto his chest, lying there to catch his breath. 

“That was... Oh my God you’re something else,” Blaine pants. “Something else.” 

Kurt manages to lift his head long enough to kiss him tenderly but then he goes back to cuddling close. 

“I love holding you,” Blaine whispers. “But don’t tell anyone.”

“Never.”

“I want to take you out to dinner tonight, to celebrate us being back together.”

“Hmm.”

“No?”

“I kinda wondered if... If you’d come back to my place, with me?”

“Will your roommates be there?”

“Yes, and I’d really like it if you’d try and get to know them. If you and I last, then I want to feel like I can see them as well as you and it won’t all be awkward as hell.” 

“Call them,” Blaine says, kissing into his hair. “Ask them to join us for dinner, because I’m in a good mood, and I’m all wrapped up in you.”

“You’re wrapped up in me?” 

“Very, and it feels wonderful, now quit fishing for more compliments and kiss me instead.”


	15. Chapter 15

“A town car picked us up!” Meredith booms when her and Anna are shown into the Thai restaurant Blaine has picked. “With a chauffeur!” 

“Oh God,” Kurt moans, holding his head in his hands, but Blaine laughs and gets to his feet, pulling out the other two chairs. 

“Ladies. You both look lovely.” 

“Thank you for inviting us,” Anna says politely. “It's good to finally be able to talk with you for longer than five minutes.” 

“Blaine’s rude, he doesn't speak to people unless he absolutely has to,” Kurt informs them, but he's smiling as he says it. 

“I am rude, yes, but that's not why I don't speak,” Blaine admits, tugging uneasily on his collar. “If you must know, I'm terrified that the people who are so important to you won't like me, and then I can't think of what to say, so I end up saying nothing.” 

“That's why?” Kurt asks softly, covering his hand. “You're scared?” 

“Can we not talk about this?” 

“No, let's not, it's boring,” Meredith declares. “Let's talk about the fact that you're amazingly rich and are totally paying for dinner.” 

“I absolutely am,” Blaine agrees before Anna or Kurt can kick her. “So order whatever you want.” 

By the end of the evening, Kurt can tell Blaine has relaxed. He enjoys sparring with Meredith particularly, but he also talks with Anna about Logan, and Kurt knows that means a lot to her. They step outside, to where two cars wait, and Blaine beats the chauffeur to hold the door open for the girls. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says quietly, and Meredith leans up, kissing his cheek. 

“You're adorable. Blunt, arrogant, rude, but really sweet.” 

“And you make Kurt happy, so that's it now, you're one of us,” Anna says with a laugh. They get in the car, and Blaine turns to Kurt for a kiss. 

“Will you stay?” Kurt asks, before their lips can touch. “I know my apartment is small, and my bed isn't like a cloud, but I really want you to stay with me tonight.” 

“Okay.” 

“Really?” Kurt's face lights up and he claps his hands together. “You will?” 

“I said I would, didn't I?” But I'm not fucking you. Not with them in the apartment too. I can't.” 

“You're so crude. I don't care, anyway. I just want you to hold me, that's all. Just hold me all night long.” 

Despite the bed being much smaller, and the noise from the street floating up through the open window all night long, Blaine sleeps so soundly that Kurt has to wake him in order that he can leave for work. 

“I'm so sorry,” Blaine says as he dresses, still entirely confused by sleep. “I haven't been sleeping properly, and then with you here I just... You make everything better, you know that?” He takes Kurt's face in his hands, and kisses him soundly on the lips. “Just your presence. It makes me feel safe.” 

“Really?” 

Blaine pulls back immediately, and buttons his shirt. “So I need to work today too. There's a new art exhibition opening tonight at MOMA. Will you be my date?” 

“I am your date, always,” Kurt says. He sits on the bed, watching Blaine carefully. “You know it's okay to admit that, right? That I make you feel safe? It's okay to show weakness. Heaven knows I do.” 

“I know you do.” 

“Yeah, but you don't always have to be strong for me, that's all. You make me feel safe, and if I do the same in return then I think it's wonderful for us to share that.” 

“Hmm. Hey, let's go away this weekend. Are you working?” 

“Yes, and don't even think about paying Karl off again. I'm working Saturday but then I'm off until Wednesday.” 

“Then we’ll go after your shift.”

“What about your work?” 

“There's an opening on Monday, but I can miss that.”

“Okay.” He grins, truly excited at the thought of a mini vacation together. “Where?”

“It's a surprise.” 

Kurt hates surprises. He still vividly remembers the epic tantrum he had when his dad had organized a surprise fourth birthday party for him. He hates being unprepared, unaware, and taken off guard. Still, he bites his tongue and does as Blaine asks, arriving at work with a small suitcase, and a scowl which stays in place even when his shift ends and Blaine walks in. 

“Holy hell, he's in shorts,” Karl whispers happily. “Oh dear god that man gets hotter with each passing day.” 

Kurt’s jaw nearly hits the floor when he looks over to see Blaine in tan shorts and a light blue shirt. The collar is open by two buttons, giving a glimpse of his chest hair, and Kurt stares, stares some more, and then finally remembers to look up. Blaine watches him, one eyebrow raised. It's clear he's worried about his appearance, and obvious that he's waiting for Kurt to say something, but all he can think to say is “I can't wait to undress you.” 

“What? Is it bad? Do I look like your dad?” 

“No, I mean... Wow.” He grins and, in the middle of the shop, he walks over, drapes his arms around his neck, and kisses his cheek. “I think most people in here are hating me right now, and I am entirely okay with that. You look good enough to eat.” 

Embarrassed, Blaine laughs and squeezes his arm around his waist. “You can eat me anytime. But not right now, because I'm double parked.” 

Kurt grabs his bag and follows Blaine outside. He doesn't register at first, when Blaine unlocks a red Ferrari, but then suddenly his eyes grow as big as saucers and he shrieks. 

“You're driving!” 

“Mmhmm. Come on.” 

“Is this your car?” 

“No, I stole it. Get in.” 

“You would have a red Ferrari,” Kurt babbles as he climbs in the low passenger seat. “Such a boy car.” 

“Man car, thanks,” Blaine corrects. “And yes it is mine. I just don't use it often.” 

“Where do you keep it?” 

“In my garage with the others.” 

“There are more?!” 

“Several.” 

“When you said you were double parked I assumed you meant Roy was waiting.” 

“Well you know, I appreciate him, and having him drive me is useful, but I've come to the conclusion that I really like time alone with you, and if you even think we’re discussing what that means, you're wrong. Just appreciate the sentiment and say no more about it.” 

“Sure.” Kurt turns to look out of the window, hiding his indulgent grin. “Where are we going?” 

“To the airport.” 

“But you'll have to pay to park this beast.” 

“Roy will come get it and drive it home.” 

“But how will he get to the airport?” 

“Jesus! He’ll get a cab. For the love of God, man. Stop talking! You drive me insane.” 

“I know I do,” Kurt says proudly. “It means more, you know? That you keep me around. Because I know you don't always like company.” 

“I never do.” 

“And yet, you like me.” 

“No I don't.” But Blaine reaches out, lacing their fingers together and raising the back of Kurt's hand to his lips. 

Of all the places Kurt thought they might be going, home to visit his dad was definitely not on the list. He stares, stunned at the boarding pass in his hand. “You hate my dad.” 

“I don't hate your dad! I just didn't speak to him because so much was going on, and I was terrified about meeting him. Look at it from my point of view. I'm dating his son. He's lost his wife, his other son, and now I'm dating the one person who is more precious to him than anyone...and I'm old. I'm old, and grumpy, and I don't treat you very well and I...” 

“Okay, stop. This is not the Blaine Anderson pity party. You are not old. You're forty three, hardly a senior citizen. You're everything I want you to be and so much more, and if you weren't, I wouldn't be standing here. I am overwhelmed that you'd think to do this for me. That you'd be willing to step right out of your comfort zone. Does dad know?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then let's go. I can't wait to introduce you both properly.” 

There were possibly never two people more physically different than Blaine Anderson and Burt Hummel, and yet Kurt realizes they also share many personality traits. Burt stands tall and proud, in his worn jeans and usual plaid shirt. A baseball cap covers his head as it always does, and to many he would look intimidating, rough, and like someone who you'd try and avoid. However, underneath his gruff exterior, he has a warm, loving heart and even Blaine is choked up to see him embracing his son and kissing his cheek. 

Blaine also stands tall and proud, but Kurt knows his shirt probably cost more than Burt’s entire closet of clothes. It is hot and stuffy but Blaine looks immaculate, his hair swept back in perfect waves, his sunglasses hooked into his breast pocket, and his free hand holding firmly onto Kurt's until he breaks free to run to his dad. When he looks over his shoulder to smile at him, he can see just how worried Blaine is, but he quickly masks it, and offers his hand. 

“Oh, dad, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is my dad, Burt.” 

“Nice to meet you properly,” Burt says. “And thanks for your very gracious letter.” 

“Um...welcome. Thanks for letting us come visit.” 

“Ah, anytime. Come on, the truck’s just outside.” 

Kurt can tell Blaine has never been in a truck his whole life through, but he sits tight, and quiet, for the ninety minute journey out to Deerfield and the small, comforting home of Kurt's childhood. 

“Beer, Blainers?” 

“It's Blaine and no thank you,” Blaine says, looking around the quaint kitchen. “Whiskey, please.” 

“Whiskey’s for after dinner,” Burt says, handing him a beer anyway. “Kurt? Granny called. We’re going for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” He leads Blaine into the living room and pulls him over to the couch. “Are you okay?” 

“We haven't unpacked, or been shown our room,” Blaine says, glancing to where the suitcases still stand by the back door. “When do we do that? I'll need to change before dinner.” 

“Nah, don't worry about it. Anything goes here. You're doing great, trust me.” 

“So, Blainers, Kurt tells me you're writing for some fancy art journal now. How's that treating you?” 

“It’s Blaine,” he repeats, “and it’s going good, thank you.” He sits formally, awkwardly clutching his beer, looking around the room. “You like football?” He asks, noticing a team pennant on the wall. 

“Yep. Packers. You?” 

“I used to,” Blaine says quietly. “I played a lot in High School. I was offered a scholarship.”

“You didn’t take it?”

“No.”

“But you still follow? Who’s your team?”

“No I uh...I don’t follow it now. Giants were my team but...yeah.”

Kurt senses that Blaine is struggling, and he’s grateful to his dad for picking up on it too. Burt stands, stretches, and taps Kurt on the head. “Take the bags up, sunshine. Blainers, you can come talk with me while I fix dinner.” 

“It’s Blaine!” he cries exasperatedly. “Why do you insist on calling me Blainers?”

Burt stops in the doorway and grins at him. “I just wanted to wind you up.”

“Why would you..?”

“Because I want you to relax with me, that’s why, kid. Be yourself. You’re part of the family now, son, whether you like it or not.” 

“Kid? Son?” Blaine hisses at Kurt as soon as Burt’s left the room. “I am not his son!” 

“He likes you,” Kurt says with a smile. “That’s all. Giving you a nickname is his way of accepting you. Now go help him with dinner, Blainers. I’ll be right down.” 

Kurt lingers upstairs, wandering around Logan’s room and wondering if Blaine is actually making conversation with his dad or still sulking in the living room, but when he arrives downstairs he can hear them in the kitchen together, so he stays in the living room a moment longer. 

“So you and Kurt sorted your little spat, then?” Burt asks, and Kurt hears Blaine sigh heavily. 

“Yes. I apologized several times.”

“Oh I know you did. But I hope he did too.”

“He did.”

“Good. So you’re back on track? Sorta....dating? Or is it more serious than that?”

“Don’t hold back, will you?”

“Nope, I won’t,” Burt says smugly. “Not when it comes to my son’s happiness.” 

“We’re happy,” Blaine replies evenly. “You have concerns, right? Because he’s probably told you I’m moody.”

“Nah, that doesn't worry me. Kurt needs to be kept on his toes. I can see you’re intelligent, and you enjoy good conversation. He needs someone like you. But I do have concerns, yes. For a start, You’re only eight years younger than me, whereas you’re twenty years older than him.” 

“I realize that, but I can assure you that it’s not an issue for either of us. And if you really need to know, I am serious about him. Very.”

“That’s good to know, but I still worry for the future.”

“Why don’t you let us worry about it, when we get there?”

“I’m trying not to interfere,” Burt explains, “But the fact is, I know how he feels for you. I’ve met kids he’s dated, but it’s a quick hello and a handshake when I happen to be in New York. This is different. This is Kurt wanting me to meet you, and spend time with you. This is him wanting his Granny to meet you. I know how serious he’s taking this, and I don’t want him left high and dry when you move onto a younger plaything.” 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Blaine says firmly, and Kurt can hear the anger in his voice. “You’ve only got my word, but Kurt has...well, he’s knocked me off my feet, if you really must know, and I can’t picture my life without him in it.” 

“What about kids?” Burt starts, but deciding he’s had enough, Kurt walks into the kitchen to save his poor boyfriend from any more interrogation. 

From there, the rest of the evening goes relatively smoothly. Kurt knows Blaine isn’t entirely relaxed, but he joins in conversation and Burt doesn’t press him on any issues. When they are finally alone in Kurt’s room, Blaine falls face down on the bed, and stays there. 

“I know,” Kurt says, sitting next to him and smoothing his hair. “This is awkward for both of you.”

“He quizzed me on my motives,” Blaine moans into the pillow. “When you were up here.”

“Yeah, I heard. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I know why. I get it. But it’s hard for me to explain my feelings to anyone, let alone your dad. I think he was waiting for me to map out the next seven years.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’m good, okay? I’m the same as you, happy to carry on as we are.”

“It’s just I’ve never thought about my future before, with anyone, you know? I didn’t think that I’d ever meet anyone I wanted to date, let alone anything else.”

“Blaine, it’s fine, really.” 

He lies on top of his back, pressing him into the bed and kissing behind his ear. “I promise you Granny won’t be the same. She’ll just keep going on about how pretty you are.” 

“Get out of here.”

“She will. And I agree. You know, you look so hot dressed like that. It gets me going.”

“I’m not listening. Your dad is down the hall.”

“Mmm, I could just take those shorts off right now, and take you...”

“Not a chance.”

“Do you ever bottom?”

“Nope. Never.”

“You never have?”

“You know me, Kurt. I don’t do vulnerable, and I don’t trust anyone. For me, doing that involves a whole level of trust and understanding that I’ve never had with anyone so no, I’ve never done that.”

“Would you let me top, if I wanted to?”

There is a long pause, and then; “Yes. You seem to always get your own way.” 

Kurt laughs, slides his hands up under Blaine’s chest, and holds him tight. “I adore you,” he whispers happily. “Just so you know.” 

Kurt is right, his Granny is so entirely overjoyed that Kurt has finally found a “nice boy” that she spends the whole time patting Blaine’s cheek and forcing him to eat cake. She shows him hundreds of photos, and regales him with tales of Kurt and Logan growing up. Blaine turns on the charm, and is attentive and sweet, and if she calls him pretty once, she does so a thousand times. 

Kurt is content to look on in amusement, and so is Burt, but the continuous photos all become too much in the end, particularly when Granny shows pictures of her one and only trip to New York, which was just three weeks before Logan died. 

Needing to be alone, Kurt takes himself outside, right to the bottom of the yard, where a wooden swing still hangs from the enormous oak tree. 

“You want me to push you, or can you do it by yourself?”

Kurt smiles, not turning around, but Blaine comes to kneel in front of him, not caring about the dirt. “Too much, huh?”

“He just died, Blaine,” Kurt says softly. “Those pictures, you know, we were all there, at the top of the Rock, with no clue about what was to come. Three weeks after that, I was lying in bed, barely able to breathe from the pain that was tearing through me. My heart was ripped open. He’s there, frozen in those photos, and then he just died.”

Blaine holds him, letting him cry onto his shoulder for as long as he needs. He soothes, whispers soft words of encouragement into his ear and then, when his tears have subsided, he takes his face in his hands and kisses him lovingly. 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, wiping at his eyes. He gives a sad smile. “I should be over it by now. It was four years ago, for goodness sake.”

“So? There’s no time limit on grief. Some days are easier than others, some days you might not think of him at all, but others you’re overcome with pain. But that’s okay. You love him. That doesn’t change, just because he’s gone.”

“We used to play in this yard all the time when we were small. Our summers were spent with Granny since dad was working. Logan’s ashes were scattered at the base of this tree. It seemed fitting, you know?” 

Blaine pulls him to his feet and into his arms, kissing his forehead. “I’m not him, and I can never have that with you but that thing you said, about me being your best friend? Same. You’re mine too and I promise I’ll always be around if you need comfort.”

“I knew you secretly liked cuddles,” Kurt says with a laugh. “Thank you.” 

They kiss once, twice, and then they fall into a deep kiss, both of them completely lost in the moment, until the loud slamming of the porch door alerts them to Burt’s presence. 

“Granny has a birthday cake for you,” he informs Kurt. “If you’d care to put each other down for a moment.” 

“It’s your birthday?” Blaine asks.

“No. Next month, but I won’t see Granny, I guess.”

“It’s my birthday next month too,” Blaine says as they climb onto the porch. “What date?”

“Fifteenth.”

“No way! We have the same birthday.”

“But twenty freakin’ years apart,” Burt mutters. 

“That’s so cool,” Kurt says happily. “It’s like we’re meant to be.”

“Yeah,” Burt agrees, much to everyone’s surprise. “I really think you are.”


	16. Chapter 16

Kurt and Blaine return to New York more deeply committed to one another than ever before. Over the course of their time in Wisconsin, they seemed to have reached a new level of understanding, and both feel content and at peace. Even the time spent without sex seems to have done them both good, though Blaine is quick to rectify this as soon as they’re home. 

Kurt finds himself missing Blaine on the nights they’re apart. It feels strange to be in bed all alone, and he can’t help but laugh when he thinks back to how he used to hate sharing. He welcomes the following Friday night, when they go out to dinner and a show, and then back to Blaine’s place together, where Kurt will stay for the rest of the weekend. 

Saturday morning is a beautiful day, and Kurt wakes to bright sunlight streaming in the large window. He feels so alive, so full of happiness, that he even joins Blaine in the gym, and then the shower, of course. 

“Why don’t we go out for breakfast?” he asks as they dress. “We could walk to the Boathouse in Central Park?”

“Okay.”

“Wow. So compliant.”

“Not compliant,” Blaine teases. “Just too tired to argue. Sex last night, tough workout, more sex. What D'you expect?”

They are happy and upbeat, strolling through the park hand in hand. Once again Blaine is relaxed in his outfit choice; burgundy shorts with a navy shirt. Kurt is more bold; his denim shorts are teamed with a red and white sailor style shirt, and a navy ascot. Blaine had made him leave the matching hat behind. 

“Do you get any vacation time from the coffee shop, sailor?”

“I guess, if we ask,” Kurt says. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“I wondered if you wanted to take a trip, maybe. See a bit of Europe?”

“I’ve seen London.”

“What about Paris? Milan? Rome? Barcelona?”

“You’re not my sugar daddy.”

“No I’m not,” Blaine agrees. “But I am totally infatuated with you, and I want us to enjoy stuff together. Will you come to Europe with me, please?”

“Okay.”

“Yes! So compliant.” 

“Too tired to argue,” he counters, sticking his tongue out. They both laugh, and carry on walking, but then suddenly Blaine stops dead, and all the color drains from his face. “Blaine? Are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question; he can clearly see he’s not, and he follows Blaine’s line of sight over to where a suited man stands texting, before pocketing his phone and walking toward them. The man looks up, and then he too stops dead, and stares right back. “Blaine,” he says with a curt nod. “How are you?”

Blaine’s fingers flex, then squeeze Kurt’s hand tightly. “Cooper. Hi. I’m um...I’m good. You?”

“Fine, thank you.” 

There’s a pause, and then Blaine seems to remember himself and he clears his throat. “Oh, uh, Kurt, this is my brother, Cooper. Cooper, meet Kurt, my partner.”

“I guess you don’t mean business partner,” Cooper says, taking in the sight of their joined hands. 

“Boyfriend,” Kurt says, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

Cooper shakes it, but he doesn’t return the compliment. Like Blaine, he gives off a hard aloofness, but unlike his brother, there’s no warmth in his cold blue eyes.. “And what do you do?”

“I’m an actor.”

“Of course you are.” 

“Kurt and I have been together for quite some time,” Blaine interrupts firmly. “It’s not just some fling.”

“I didn’t say that it was.”

“How’s the family?” Blaine asks in an effort to move conversation along. “I thought you moved out of town?”

“We live in Westchester,” Cooper confirms. “Lucy is in her first year at Texas, so she’s not at home anymore. Brandon is a sophomore.”

“Wow.” A sad smile comes over Blaine’s face. “They weren’t even in high school last time I saw them.”

“I changed jobs. Still a stockbroker, but with Bank of America. Sometimes I have weekend meetings, like today, so I stay in the city.”

“Oh. Uh... Mom and dad? How are they?”

At this, Cooper’s face seems to fall, but he quickly composes himself. “Mom’s fine. Dad is... did you know the cancer came back?”

Stunned, Blaine gives a small shake of his head. “No. Someone mentioned he’d been sick but...”

“Yeah. He had a spell in the hospital, they ran some tests and found a tumor in his pancreas. He’s had some chemo, but it’s merely extending what time he has left.”

“Which is?”

“A couple of months at most.” Cooper shrugs, looking down at his shoes. “Anyway.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No. Well, I must go. See you around.” He glances at Kurt, smiles and then pats Blaine’s shoulder. “I’m glad you have a friend.” 

Kurt watches him walk away before turning back to Blaine, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go home.” 

There’s nothing but silence as they walk back through the park. Kurt would like to ask a million and one questions, and he’d really like to let Blaine know what he thought of the friend remark, but he doesn’t. Blaine wears the look of a man deep in agonizing thought, and the nearer they get to home, the more distant he seems to become. 

“Could I just...” He trails off, gesturing down the hallway to his office. “I think I need to be alone.”

“Sure.” Kurt kisses his cheek quickly. “Take all the time you need.” 

He takes himself out onto the terrace, bathed in the warm morning sunshine, and he sits in a contemplative silence, staring out at the river. He’d like to talk with someone about this, but he doesn’t want to betray Blaine. He knows that if Logan were here though, he’d go to him. He counts back; he and Blaine had their first date in London nearly six months ago. That was when Blaine said he’d seen his brother eighteen months prior, so it’s been two years. 

Kurt’s eyes fill with tears at the thought. He can’t imagine what Blaine must be feeling right now. Two years of no contact and then to be casually told his dad has only months left to live. Not only that, but Cooper had walked away, not even asking Blaine if he’d like to see his parents. He’d dismissed their relationship out of hand, belittling it by calling Kurt a friend, just as people would have done years ago, when being gay was a taboo subject. 

Kurt had always thought Blaine was being stubborn, in not contacting his family, but now, as he thinks, he comes to the conclusion that Blaine can just tell when he’s not wanted. 

“Okay. Sorry about that.” Blaine’s voice startles Kurt, who gets to his feet, raising his sunglasses to study him. He’s clearly been crying, and, most telling of all to Kurt; he’s changed back into suit pants and a shirt with a tie. “We’ve probably missed breakfast. We could do brunch? At the park, or anywhere, really. You choose.” 

“Blaine, sit down.”

“No, I’m good. Hungry, that’s all.”

“Blaine...”

“Not now, Kurt.” His voice is hard and commanding and Kurt drops his head. 

“I just...”

“I can’t, okay? I can’t.” He shakes his head, then turns and walks back into the apartment. “Call Anna and Meredith, see if they want to join us. If they get a cab I’ll pick up the tab when they get there.” 

Blaine resolutely refuses to speak about the incident in the park. Kurt tries to raise it on their way to brunch, and then afterward, and then again in the afternoon, but he’s swiftly shut down. He knows Blaine is brooding on it though, because he catches him staring into space several times, and at one point when Kurt is talking, he doesn’t even respond. 

“I thought I could cook dinner here tonight.” 

“Huh?”

“Dinner. I could cook?”

“Yeah, sure, do what you want.”

“Well it’s your kitchen.”

“Yeah. Good.” 

In the end, leaving Blaine to his own thoughts seems like the best option, so he busies himself with cooking pad thai, and in a totally shocking turn of events, Blaine needs no convincing to eat on the couch while watching a movie. 

They head to bed early that night. Conversation seems to have run dry, because there’s one massive subject that needs to be talked about, but which Blaine is refusing to address. Kurt wonders if he will once they’re in the dark, but he doesn’t. He merely reaches out for him, pulls him close, and closes his eyes. 

Kurt wakes at three. The bed is empty and Blaine’s side is cold. He walks quietly down to the office and at first, he thinks it is empty. Then he notices Blaine, huddled down on the floor by the window, looking out at the night, silently sobbing. His face is twisted in anguish and he clearly doesn't know Kurt is there. Endless tears roll down his cheeks as he holds his knees in tight to his chest, his body shaking as he cries and cries.

“Oh Blaine.” Kurt kneels beside him and reaches out, placing one tentative hand on his knee. He's unsure if he will want contact or not, or even if he’ll yell at him to be left alone entirely, but he doesn't. He cries harder, turning his face towards Kurt, who is shocked to see the hurt in his eyes. 

“My dad’s gonna die,” he chokes out. “He's gonna die hating me, and I hate myself for being this way, for disappointing him so much that he wants to leave this world without ever saying goodbye to me. He's my dad, Kurt. My dad, who took me to Giants games, who drove me to all my football games and cheered me on from the sidelines. My dad who told me time and again how proud he was of me, how much he loved me and then, when I said I was gay, he told me he couldn't love me anymore. Why? Am I that horrible? Is it that wrong to love someone of the same gender? If you have a kid, if you hold them as a baby, raise them, love them, care for them, don't you just want them to be happy?” 

“Of course you do. Oh Blaine. I'm so sorry.” 

Kurt holds him. Though he resists at first, eventually Blaine clutches him, sagging against his chest. The first loud sob rips through him, and then he lets go completely, crying for all the years he’s lost, just because he didn't live up to his family’s expectations. 

“You know, the last time I saw them? On my thirty seventh birthday. They took me out for lunch, and I thought this was it, they were going to apologize, and I'd forgive them, even though it still hurt, because they're my mom and dad. But they wanted to tell me about some new conversion therapy they'd read about. Said it could cure me, and dad, I remember, he said that being gay was a mental illness. But it's not.” 

“No, it's not,” Kurt says firmly. “Listen, Blaine, you are wonderful. No matter what anyone says, I want you to listen to me, because you're everything to me. You have your flaws, just like everyone does, but being gay is not one of them. You're imperfectly perfect, because you're perfect for me. Please know that there are people in your life who love you and accept you. My family, Anna, Meredith, and me. Always.” 

“I know.” He sniffs, wiping at his eyes. “I do know that. Thank you.” 

“But you want your dad, don't you?” 

“I do,” he whispers as his tears start again. “Yeah.” 

Kurt holds Blaine all night long. Even when they eventually fall asleep, Kurt wakes whenever Blaine moves, pulling him back against his chest and kissing him, reminding him that he's there. 

Most of Sunday is spent in quiet contemplation for Blaine. Kurt has to cover the lunchtime shift at the coffee shop, but he's tired and his heart isn't in it at all. He rushes back to his boyfriend’s side as soon as he can and they sit together on the terrace, drinking wine and saying very little. 

“What did your dad say when you came out?” 

“Blaine, don't do this.” 

“What did he say? I'm curious. Did you tell your granny at the same time? What did Logan say?” 

“Okay, well, I told Logan first. I was fifteen, he was seventeen. He told me he'd guessed years ago, probably before I'd even realized myself. He said he'd always have my back, and that he'd make sure no one was ever a jerk to me, only he was allowed to do that. So then we told my dad together, who said he'd known since I was three, and then I told granny a few months later. Turns out she’d joined a PFlag group two years before that, because she knew the day would come. All in all it was a bit of a let down.” He laughs. “I'd worked myself up so much, and then it turns out I was just being predictable.” 

“But they were all supportive? They didn't think it was wrong?” 

“No, but school was a whole other story. Logan outed me.” 

“He what?” 

“He didn't mean to. He liked this girl, and he asked her out but she told him she wasn't interested, then asked if I was single. He was upset, and embarrassed, and he just came out with it. She told everyone, and then my life was utter hell until I got out of there. I don't think Logan ever got over it, but I did. I knew he felt bad.” 

“I told my brother first, too,” Blaine says quietly. “And he told me I was sick and depraved. I was nineteen. He accused me of perving on him when we were growing up, which wasn't true, obviously. Then he told me I couldn't be gay, because I hadn't had sex with a guy. But I hadn't had sex with a girl, either. I just knew. I went out that night and gave some guy head in the back room of a club, just to prove a point to myself, I think. Of course, he threatened me with telling mom and dad, so I was kinda forced into going home as soon as I could and telling them too, and then it all unraveled.” 

“I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. I wish I could have helped you.” 

There's a long silence, and then Blaine looks over at him. “You weren't born.” 

Suddenly, this seems like the funniest thing to both of them, and they laugh uncontrollably, clutching their stomachs and wiping at their eyes. Kurt raises his glass in a toast. “To you, and me, and our ridiculous age gap which works so wonderfully well.” 

Blaine drinks too, then pats his thighs. “Get over here.” 

Kurt obliges, sitting in his lap and kissing him. “We shouldn't be laughing.” 

“No, we should,” Blaine says. “Because you make me so happy, and you're all I need.” He presses his head against Kurt's chest. “Can you stay a few more nights?” he asks, his eyes closed. “I really need you.” 

Kurt kisses into his hair and holds him close. “Of course.” 

Blaine doesn't talk about his family any more, but Kurt knows it stays with him. For a start, he's either exceptionally moody or incredibly clingy over the next few days. Fortunately the bad moods are short lived and he swiftly apologizes each time, but he rarely sleeps at night, and Kurt often finds him in the early hours, sitting alone in his office. 

He seems to sleep only when Kurt is wrapped around him, keeping him safe. Sometimes he cries in his dreams, and Kurt can only hold him tighter, giving his constant reassurance and then one day, ten days after their encounter with Cooper in the park, Blaine wakes Kurt up with kisses all over his body. They make love for the first time since the incident and Blaine is so happy afterwards as they bask in the afterglow together, that he rolls over on top of Kurt once more, kissing his lips. “Do you think your dad would like to visit this weekend?” 

“Yes, but he won't let you pay for his flight.” 

“Okay. Would he like to stay here, do you think, with us?” 

“Woah! Really?” 

“Well, you're kinda here already, so... I thought we could go for dinner, for your birthday? The girls too.” 

“Our birthday? I'd like that.”

“Your birthday,” Blaine corrects. “Call him and ask.” 

Burt is in awe of Blaine's apartment, though he tries not to show it. He does admit he's impressed that Blaine has ordered beer in though, and he settles happily on a stool at the kitchen island, watching Kurt as he cooks. “You're his servant now?” 

“No! I like to cook, and his kitchen is bigger, that's all.” 

“Is he okay?” Burt asks, glancing over his shoulder to check Blaine isn't around. “He seems kinda...subdued.” 

“He's having a rough time,” Kurt says diplomatically. “But he’ll get there.” 

He says no more, and Burt doesn't push but after dinner, when the three of them are still sitting around the table, Blaine stops peeling the label from his bottle of beer, and looks across at Burt. 

“Did Kurt tell you we met my brother?” 

“Oh! Uh no, he didn't.” 

“We bumped into him in the park. It was kinda weird. My dad’s dying,” he adds as if it were no big deal. “So I guess I won't see him again. Yeah. Weird.” 

“Wow that's... I didn't know things were that way. I mean, Kurt just said you weren't close to your family, that's all.” 

Blaine tells him everything. Whether he needs to offload, or whether he really wants Burt to be informed, Kurt can't tell, but he does know that his dad listens intently, and when Blaine chokes on his words, and has to take a moment, Burt doesn't flinch. After a long time, Blaine stops talking. Burt sits for a moment, contemplating it all, and then he reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. 

“I don't know your folks, or your brother, but I do know that for them to disown you like that is wrong. Your brother lives in Westchester?” 

“Yes.” 

“Want me to hunt him down and punch him for ya?” 

Blaine smiles and shakes his head. “I miss him. I listen to Kurt talk about Logan, and what he'd give to have him back, and all the time, my brother is living. I miss my niece and nephew. I like kids, and they were so adorable. But I've seen them like, four times their whole life through.” 

“So you used to see them? Sporadically?” 

“Yeah...I think my brother thought that seeing him happily married with kids would make me want that too. The last time I saw him properly, he told me to leave his house and never return unless I'd changed my mind. I hope for his kids sake none of them are gay. Will he disown them too?” 

“You should contact him,” Burt urges. “If you want him in your life, and you want a chance to say goodbye to your old man, call him and ask to meet.” 

“No way.” Blaine hardens instantly. “I'm not putting myself, or Kurt through it. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a family. It's taken these last two weeks to feel anywhere near myself again, and that's only because Kurt’s been so good to me. If it wasn't for him.... I don't know. But I do know that I've made my peace with it all now, and I just want to forget about it all.” 

“Okay.” Burt shrugs, and leans back in his chair. “But you know what? You do have a family, my son. You have us.” 

Blaine grumbles endlessly about Burt calling him his son, and Kurt is pretty sure that his dad then uses the endearment even more for the whole weekend, just to wind him up. He also knows that Blaine secretly quite enjoys it. He has one of the best birthday meals he can ever remember, surrounded by his dad, roommates and boyfriend, and when Burt leaves for the airport the next day, Blaine hugs him goodbye, and insists on sending him in the town car. 

Two days later and it's their actual birthday. Though they decide to forgo gifts, Blaine still buys Kurt the designer boots he's been covering, and Kurt insists on booking a table at the Palm Court. He arrives from his own apartment, and waits anxiously; Blaine arrives a little late, looking divine in a gray suit and he rushes in, kissing Kurt’s cheek. 

“Sorry, my meeting overran. Happy Birthday, beautiful.” 

“And to you.” Kurt smiles and kisses him again. “Come on.” 

Blaine frowns when they're shown to their table. “This isn't right,” he protests to the waiter. “Table for two, not five.” 

“No, it's right,” Kurt says softly. “Sit down, Blaine.” 

He does, but he's alarmed, and his eyes dart around the restaurant. “Kurt? Please tell me the girls are coming, and someone else? That crazy manager of yours?” 

“No, they're not coming.” 

“Kurt?” He swallows hard, looking like he's about to either cry, or explode with rage. “Oh my god, Kurt, what have you done?” 

But Kurt doesn't answer, for at that moment, Blaine's parents and brother arrive.


	17. Chapter 17

“How could you do this to me?” Blaine whispers. He gets to his feet, along with Kurt, and watches as his family approaches. 

“You need to see them,” Kurt whispers back. “You need the chance to make this right with your dad.” 

“Kurt, you don't understand. This will never be right. It never can be.” 

“Hey Blaine.” Cooper gives a nod and a tight smile. “Kurt.” 

Blaine's mom and dad stand behind, and when Cooper sits, Kurt finally gets a good look at them. Both are elderly, Kurt guesses at early eighties, and both give off an air of wealth, even more than Blaine does. Mrs Anderson has white hair, elegantly pinned back with combs, and diamonds flash at her throat, her wrist, and on her fingers. Her eyes are blue, and cold. Mr Anderson looks like a man on the brink of death. He is stooped over, leaning heavily on two canes, and his skin and the whites of his eyes are yellow. Even so, Kurt can tell Blaine takes after him, for his eyes are deep, dark brown, his hair is now more silver than black, but it is wavy just like his sons. He says nothing while his wife helps him into a chair, but once everyone is seated he looks up. 

“Blaine.” 

“Hi dad, mom.” 

“This is Kurt,” Cooper quickly interrupts. “He's Blaine's friend, the one who called me.” 

“He's my partner,” Blaine says, shooting his brother a dark look. “Boyfriend, lover, better half, whatever you want to call it. He's much more than a friend.” 

A resounding silence hits the table, as Kurt stares at his hands, knowing he is now under scrutiny from both the parents. Menus are given out, which proves to be some distraction, and after some time, Blaine folds his and looks across the table. 

“So, dad, how are you?” 

Mr Anderson stares back. “I'm dying. How do you think I am?” 

“I know but...” 

“You're still galavanting around town, I see? I was warned you had a new plaything.” 

“Kurt is not a plaything,” Blaine growls, and as if to prove a point, he puts his arm around the back of his chair. 

“Blaine, do you always have to argue?” his mom asks as if she were talking to a small child. “Your father is very sick.” 

“Fine,” he mutters, and then drums his fingers on the table, at a loss for anything to say. 

Kurt waits, but no one utters a word, and no one knows where to look, so he decides to try and make this better himself. “So, Cooper, you said your daughter is in college? What's her major?” 

Cooper stiffens, sips his wine slowly, and then realizes Kurt is still waiting for an answer. “Journalism,” he says awkwardly. 

Blaine lights up. “Oh really? How wonderful. So she can do nothing with her life and become a big failure just like me.” 

“I read your stuff, Blaine,” Cooper admits. “I know you've done well. Lucy reads it too, for that matter.” 

In an instant, Blaine softens, overcome with emotion. “You do? She does? I'd like to see her sometime. Brandon too, if possible. I mean, I know they don't know me but... I'd really like the chance to see them.” 

“We’ll see.” 

Kurt feels tears pricking at his eyes to hear the quiet desperation in Blaine's voice. He can't figure out how his family can be so cold, so ignorant of his feelings when he himself can easily see just how desperate Blaine is for their affection. 

“Let's order,” his mom announces. “Your father can't eat. He has a tube into his stomach now. But I'll have the venison. Donald, did you take your meds?” 

“In a minute,” he snaps at his wife. He goes back to glaring between Blaine and Kurt, his disgust evident. “If you miss Lucy and Brandon that much, have kids of your own,” he tells Blaine. “Tell him, Mara.” 

“Yes, you should,” his mom chimes in. “But you'll need to get moving on that, at your age.” 

“Kurt and I haven't discussed children,” Blaine says brightly. He turns, giving a wicked grin at Kurt and squeezing his hand. “Maybe, in the future. I just want Kurt to be happy, that's all.” 

“That wasn't what I meant and you know it,” Donald snaps. 

“Two men can't have children together,” Mara adds. 

“Oh, haven't you heard? There's these two wonderful processes called adoption and surrogacy. If Kurt would like, one day, to have a baby with me, then we’ll go down one of those routes.” 

His mom turns away in disgust, his dad clenches his fists in anger, and Cooper shakes his head sadly, but Blaine just smiles at Kurt, and gives a wink. “One day?” 

Suddenly, Kurt’s heart surges with joy. Until that moment, he'd never thought that far ahead in terms of his and Blaine's future but suddenly he can see it all. “Yeah. One day,” he whispers, his cheeks pink, and his eyes shining with happiness. 

“When Kurt is out of Middle School,” Cooper mutters, and Blaine whirls around to confront him. 

“He's twenty four, if you must know.” 

“Really, Blaine?” He raises one eyebrow. “And how old are you, today?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Is it your birthday today?” his mom asks in surprise. “I didn't know.” 

“Yes,” Blaine says quietly. “Today. Kurt's too.” 

But there's no further acknowledgement made. Their food arrives, and Kurt knows he’s not the only one forcing down every bite. Blaine doesn’t even try, just sits looking down at his plate, simmering with anger and upset. 

“So uh...Mrs Anderson,” Kurt says tentatively. “Blaine tells me you’re from Wisconsin? That’s where I grew up. Deerfield. It’s a small town, you might not have heard of it, but it’s really pretty. My dad still lives there.” 

Kurt waits, and then begins to wonder if he’s even spoken out loud at all. “Mrs Anderson?” He tries again, but she just carries on eating, as if nothing were amiss. 

“Mom, Kurt is talking to you,” Blaine says but again, apart from a brief glance up at her son, she ignores them both. 

“Mom, just answer him,” Cooper says quietly. “Otherwise Blaine is going to cause a scene.”

“You’re damn right I am. What is your problem, mother? I get that my lifestyle doesn’t come up to your standards. I get that I’m a let down, the black sheep or whatever, but you know what I don’t get? It’s been seven years since I saw you. Seven years, and now dad is at the end of his life and all you can think to do is ignore my boyfriend to try and make some idiotic point. Why? What does it achieve? You’ve always told me I need to settle down well now I’m here, telling you I’ve met someone, and you can’t even acknowledge him when he tries to make polite conversation.” 

Mara fixes her icy stare first on her son, then on Kurt, then back to Blaine once more. “He’s just a boy,” she says coldly. “A child, Blaine. It’s time you stopped messing around, found a wife, and started being respectable.” 

“That’s it.” Blaine gets to his feet, throwing his napkin down. His anger flowing freely now, he looks darker and more terrifying than ever, towering over the whole table. “I love Kurt,” he says loudly. “I love him with all my heart, and he makes me exceptionally happy. I don’t need your disapproval in our lives, I don’t need the constant reminder that I’m a letdown, because you know what? I’m not a letdown to Kurt, or to his family, either. You disowned me twenty five fucking years ago and it’s taken a long time, but I’ve finally found my own happiness, and my own family. So you can keep your holier than thou attitude, which stinks anyway, because I don’t need any of it. Dad?” He pauses, looking down at him and swallowing hard. “I am so sorry that you’re dying. I’m sorry it had to end this way. When you came in tonight I hoped, just for a moment, that we might reconcile and part on good terms. I know that won’t ever be the case, but I wish you well. I loved you, please know that,” he says, choking on a sob. “I really loved you so much. But I won’t sit here and let you all treat Kurt like dirt, just because I’ve fallen in love with him. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking my boyfriend home. Come along, Kurt.” 

Kurt scrambles up from his chair and holds Blaine’s hand firmly as they walk out of the restaurant. The car is magically waiting, but Blaine doesn’t even wait for Roy to open the door, he just climbs and, for the first time ever, he doesn't wait for Kurt to get in first. 

Kurt knows Blaine well enough by now to know that now is not the time to speak a word, so he sits tight, and both of them are completely silent. The second the car pulls up, Blaine is storming into his building, angrily tapping his foot for the entire elevator ride. He slams his key into the lock with such force Kurt is surprised it doesn’t break, and then he throws the door open hard, slamming it back on its hinges. 

Kurt follows him down the hall meekly, assuming, correctly, that he will be heading right to the whiskey. He turns his back, downs a large measure, takes a deep breath, and then releases a yell of frustration and anger that has Kurt cowering against the wall. 

“Fuck them!” he screams, hurling his glass at the wall. “Fuck them all!” He swiftly knocks the antique lamp from the top of the drinks cabinet, then swigs from the whiskey bottle, draining it, before that too is smashed against the opposite wall. 

“Stop it, Blaine!” Kurt yells. “Stop it now!” 

His shout makes Blaine collect himself and he stands among all the broken glass, breathing hard. He groans, running a weary hand over his face and then finally, he looks at Kurt. “I love you,” he says. “I really, really love you, but I need your word, Kurt, that you won’t ever, EVER interfere in my life again.” 

“Blaine, I just thought...”

“You thought wrong,” he barks. “Stay out of stuff that doesn’t concern you.” He looks around at the mess. “I’m going to bed.” 

“Can I stay?”

“Do what you want,” he says over his shoulder. “Just keep out of my way.” 

Kurt picks up every last piece of glass. After searching in several closets, he finds a vacuum cleaner, and makes sure to run it over the carpet thoroughly. When that’s done, he sits alone on the couch, and plays the whole evening over and over in his mind. 

“I fucked up,” he whispers to no one. “I really fucked up.”

After a long time spent worrying that he should maybe sleep in a guestroom or even on the couch, eventually Kurt takes himself to bed, figuring that while Blaine is sleeping he can't complain about him being there. 

He’d like to curl around him, as he has done a lot recently, but he’s pretty sure Blaine would wake and yell at him for that, so he turns this way and that, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep. 

He’s not sure why he wakes at first, since it’s early; the gray light of dawn barely creeping into the room. He lies on his front, his head turned towards the window, Blaine behind him, and then he feels another soft kiss to his bare shoulder, and smiles. 

“Hmm.”

“I owe you such a massive apology,” Blaine says, his voice rough. “My reaction was way out of line last night. I was so worked up, and I let it get the better of me. I’m not making excuses, I just want you to know how sorry I am.” 

“S’okay,” Kurt murmurs as another soft kiss comes. He turns his head to look at him. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have tried to make it right. I didn’t know they were like that. As...blatant, I guess, in their hatred.” 

“Actually, I think it’s sweet that you tried. It shows how much you care. I think though, for my own sanity, I have to leave it there.”

“I agree. I’m sad for you, but I don’t think they’re ever going to come around, do you?”

“No.”

Kurt stares deep into his dark eyes, and gives a sad smile. “You’ve still got me.” 

“I have.” Blaine smiles brightly, and lies on top of him, pressing his bare chest against his back. “I love you, Kurt.”

“And I love you too, you moody, tempestuous bastard. A lot.” 

“You do?”

“Oh come on, you know I do!” Kurt protests. “I’ve put up with you for the last six months.”

“I thought you were just after my money.” 

“Yeah, of course, but I also really, really love you,” he says, grinning.

Blaine presses even closer, kissing behind his ear. “Move in with me.” 

Kurt turns underneath him with such speed that Blaine rolls off and onto the floor, bashing his elbow on the nightstand. “Ouch!” 

“What did you just say?”

“Ouch!” he cries from the floor. “You just injured me!”

“Before that.” He watches carefully as Blaine climbs back on the bed. “What did you say?”

“Move in with me.... Please,” he adds with a smile. “I really like having you here, and I hate it when you’re not. I can't see a future without you, being a brat, right there by my side. I don't even care what form that future takes; where we live, what we do, have kids, pets...whatever, I just know that I love you, and I want you with me for the rest of my life.” 

Stunned, Kurt opens his mouth, closes it again, blinks, and then says “But I don't know how your house works.” 

“What?” 

“The magic.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Any of it! The music that plays through the walls. The curtains that close by themselves, the lights that decide when they need to work, the shower that hates me but loves you... I don't even know when the housekeepers arrive, or what they do. And how the hell does Roy always know when to show up and where to go? I don't understand!” 

“Well I can show you all that,” Blaine says with a shrug. “The music plays through speakers, though. Not the walls.” 

“Oh.” 

“So...if I train the shower to behave, and I teach you all Roy's secrets, will you live with me? You can have your own dressing room,” he teases.

“I want to,” Kurt starts. “But the girls... Our lease isn't up until September.” 

“I was thinking about that.” 

“Oh God.” 

“No, listen. I have an apartment downtown. Just a two bedroom place, but the tenant moves out next month. Do you think the girls would want it? I own it, so they'd only have to pay the service charge. I can't take rent from them, it’d be weird.” 

“But our lease...” 

“I'll take care of that.” 

“One more thing.” 

“Oh for... Go on,” he huffs. 

“You're used to a certain lifestyle, and that's fine, but I do like to do stuff around the house, like cooking. Cleaning not so much, but I'd like to make my own breakfast, and just feel like I live here, you know? Pictures on the walls, not being afraid to put my feet up on the furniture...all that sort of stuff.” 

“I get that. I think I want that too. I just didn't want it on my own, that's all.” 

Kurt looks down at the bed sheets and nods slowly. He looks up again, his eyes filled with tears and making Blaine swim in front of him. “You really wanna live with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“I never thought...” Breaking off, he takes a moment to compose himself. “I never thought I’d find anyone to love me,” he gets out. “I thought I’d got lucky with my family, and that was it, you know? I figured I’d date, be relatively happy and then you arrived, with your smug grin, and your arrogant attitude, and I just fell for you so hard. I don’t know why you’d want me around all the time.” 

“Because you’re annoying, whiny, you talk all the goddamn time, and you make me appreciate every last thing. I feel like one of those characters in that dumb movie we watched the other week. You know when she said to him it’s like she could appreciate every cloud in the sky, every blade of grass? You make me see the best in things. You make me want to be a better person... you make me love. I didn’t realize how much I was missing that until you irritated me so much that I asked you out. And now... well, now I find myself quite unable to live without you.”

“Blaine?”

“Ah shit, you’re gonna say no, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to say I’ve been dreaming of this for so long... and yes, I’d love to live with you, thank you.” 

Blaine instantly tackles him backward onto the pillows, showering him with kisses and making him scream with laughter. When he is able, Kurt takes his face in his hands, finds his lips, and pulls him into a long kiss. “I love you, Blaine. Always” 

They kiss again, and Blaine rolls onto his back, pulling Kurt on top of him. He’s not ashamed by his tears of emotion, smiling when Kurt gently kisses them away, then runs his hands over his back and down to the top of his backside. “Hot.”

“Yours,” Kurt says darkly.

“Ugh. Don’t say that, you know it gets me going.”

“And that’s a problem because?”

“Housekeepers. They start at six thirty.”

“Bite a pillow,” Kurt teases, pulling his thigh up. “Bite me.” 

“Oh my fucking God.”

“You want me, I can tell,” Kurt whispers, grinding against him. He can feel his growing hardness, and Blaine groans in pleasure. 

“You’re a bad boy, Kurt. A bad boy.”

“Hey, come on, both of us have just made the biggest commitment of our lives. We need to celebrate.”

“We do,” Blaine agrees, and he opens his legs wide beneath him. “Kurt, I want you to take me.”

Their lovemaking takes all morning. Both of them are a strange mix of nervous, giddy excitement and as a result, they keep stopping to tease one another, and share soft smiles. When at last Kurt enters him, Blaine rises off the bed, digging his fingers into his back and giving a growl of satisfaction. 

“Housekeepers,” Kurt says with a laugh. 

“Don’t care. Damn....I love you.” 

The faster and harder Kurt goes, the louder Blaine becomes, until Kurt flips him over and sternly instructs him to bury his face in the pillow. He can’t though, too overwhelmed with the strange yet entirely pleasurable sensation coursing through him. 

“Take me harder,” he begs loudly. Gripping the headboard, he pushes back to meet each of his thrusts. “Fuck me, Kurt. Go on!” 

“I am!” Kurt’s fingers dig hard into his hips, leaving bruises in their wake. “Jesus, Blaine, I’m gonna come so damn hard.” 

“I want that,” Blaine decides. “Now.” 

They hit their orgasm together, both of them yelling their satisfaction before collapsing in a sweaty, sticky mess. They stay that way for a long time, drifting off to a contented sleep. When they wake, the sun is high in the sky and the room is flooded with warmth. Blaine stretches slowly, kisses Kurt lovingly, and, pulling on some shorts, walks from the room. 

He’s gone an awful long time, and Kurt is just contemplating going to find him, but then he returns, carrying a tray full of food. “So some of this was already set out, but Carla showed me how to make eggs and toast by myself.” 

“What are you, nine?” Kurt slides up against the pillows, smiling at the breakfast which looks surprisingly good. “I’m so hungry.”

“I have a gift too,” Blaine tells him, and he drops a key into his hand. “I love you, roomie. Welcome to your new home.”


	18. Chapter 18

Over the next few days, Kurt feels like he exists in some kind of daydream. Predictably, Anna and Meredith are upset when he first tells them he’s moving out, but they brighten considerably when Blaine offers them his downtown apartment and immediately start making plans even though they can’t move for another month. 

Kurt, however, moves right away. It’s not that he’s anxious to leave the tiny apartment he’s come to think of as home, more that he’s just desperate to be with Blaine as much as he possibly can, because if he had thought they were in love before, it’s nothing compared with how it is now. 

He has Blaine’s family to thank for it, because the way they were with him finally opened Blaine’s eyes to just how much he was loved, not only by Kurt, but by his dad and granny, as well as by Anna and Meredith, whom he thinks of as family too. It’s like a cloud has been lifted; even though the meal with his parents had been awful, it gave him the courage to open his heart to Kurt, and in turn, he is loving, attentive, happy, and upbeat. 

Of course, he’s still the same old Blaine as well, which is exactly what makes Kurt love him so much. He grouches and moans about every item of furniture Kurt brings into the apartment, and nearly has a total fit when he comes home from a meeting to discover a wall of framed photos hanging in the hallway, but Kurt knows he secretly loves it. 

True to his word, Blaine cuts his housekeepers down to three days a week. He still pays them the same, since they’ve been dedicated to him for so long, and they both nearly cry with gratitude. He also teaches Kurt how to use the music system, how to work the shower, and how the curtains and lights are all programmed. After that, he runs out of patience and tells him he’ll have to figure out the rest on his own. 

It turns out that Roy is neither programmed, or a magical being. Rather, Blaine dictates instructions into his phone, which then sends a message to Roy, and that is how he always knows when to pick up, and where to go. It’s just that Blaine does it so subtly that Kurt has always missed it. It makes no difference, anyway. Kurt flatly refuses to be driven to work, and he absolutely won’t hear of driving one of Blaine’s sports cars because he’s not going to even attempt parking on the streets of Manhattan. So he takes the subway, much to Blaine’s chagrin. 

Kurt knows Blaine would like it if he gave up his job altogether, but he’s not doing that. It’s weird enough to no longer be paying any rent, or utilities, so the least he can do is work so he has his own money somehow. Anyway, he enjoys it. Blaine often stops in, since the New York News offices are right around the corner, and those are the shifts he likes the best. He also likes going home to him, where Blaine will be sitting in his office, writing. He knows that if the door is shut, it means stay away, but more often than not it is open, and Blaine is waiting with kisses, ready to talk about their respective days.

“I heard something today,” Kurt says one afternoon, ten days after he's moved in. “Apparently Frank Fisher is trying to get funding for a new show, in Chicago.” 

“Is he?” 

Blaine is nonchalant about it, and Kurt feels a little bit disappointed, but he doesn't let it show. “Yeah.”

“Hmm. How about you start focusing on your own career, instead of worrying about a jerk like him?” 

“I work!” 

Blaine closes his laptop, and looks over the top of his glasses to where Kurt stands in the doorway. “You know what I mean, so don't play dumb. You haven't called your agent back, and I know she called you twice yesterday, at least. You're an actor, Kurt, not a barista.” 

“I was, but I don't know if that's what I even want to do anymore,” he lies. 

“Really? Well, if it's not, then decide what it is you do want to get out of life, please, because I doubt your father dreamed of you working four days a week in a coffee shop, and it's certainly not what I envisioned any partner of mine would do.” 

“You didn't envision you'd have a partner,” Kurt points out. 

“True.” Coming around to the front of his desk, Blaine holds his hands out, and waits patiently until Kurt sullenly comes over and takes them. “Don't sulk at me. I want you to achieve your dreams and then reach for even bigger ones, that's all. You said you'd let me help you, right? Come with me to this opening tonight.”

“What is it?” 

“I don't even know.” 

“Then why are you going?” 

“No, that's the name of the play. Some musical about high school kids. It'll flop, but what the hell. There will be a lot of high profile directors there because it's Arthur McKay’s nephew directing it, and his granddaughter is in the cast.”

“Oh, I wonder who could be funding that then?” 

“Right? Come on. It'll be a night out, if nothing else. I'll wear my glasses.” 

“I wish I'd never told you that,” Kurt says, laughing. “Yeah okay, I'll come.” 

The show is enjoyable, but Kurt feels a pang of regret while watching. Around the time he'd taken the part in Frank’s awful play, there had been an open call for chorus members for a musical set in high school. He'd barely given the announcement a second glance, but now he wishes he had. Blaine is right, it will probably flop, but it will still play a three month run on Broadway, and it certainly looks to be a whole lot more fun than the Life of Riley Morton.

All the cast are around the same age as him, and there's a lot of them, too. The reception is held in the bar next door to the theatre and Kurt stands by Blaine's side, watching as they all come piling in, high on adrenaline and excitement. 

It's less than two minutes before Blaine is approached by one of the leads. Skinny, with blond hair, blue eyes and blindingly white teeth, he shamelessly sidles up to Blaine at the bar, either not seeing or not caring about his arm around Kurt’s waist. 

“I know who you are,” he says, smiling up at him. 

Blaine stares back coolly. “Really? I have absolutely no idea who you are.” 

“Jamie Thomas.” He offers his hand. “I played Freddie? I hope you enjoyed the show.” 

“Too sickly sweet for me,” Blaine snaps. “I found it intensely annoying.” 

“Still, lots of nubile young men up there, eh?” he jokes, resting a hand on his arm. “Including me.” 

“Meet my partner, Kurt,” Blaine says. His voice is flat, hard, cold. “And then tell me if you think I'd be interested in anyone else.” 

Kurt turns away, grabbing a glass of champagne to hide his smirk. The boy flounders for a moment, looks over his shoulder, and then back to Blaine. “I mean, if you're into sharing then I could go with that.” 

“I am not! Fuck off,” Blaine says, giving him a firm shove in the chest. “Whatever it is you've heard about me, you're way off the mark. I am decidedly taken, and no amount of flirting is going to make my review any more favorable. Come on, Kurt. Let's go and see Arthur.” 

“Well, you shut him down,” Kurt says happily as they walk across the bar. “That was hot. To hear you say you're taken.” 

Blaine stops, his anger giving way to an indulgent smile. He pulls Kurt close, not caring about the very public setting, and kisses his neck, just above his collar. “I'm yours, Kurt.” 

“Ha! Quit with that.” He smacks his chest lightly, then wraps his arms around his neck. “I love you.” 

“I love you too and just so you know? I don't think any of that cast are as nubile, and sexy, and flexible as you are.” 

Kurt throws his head back and laughs, forgetting all about being there to meet connections and influential people. His heart and his head are filled with Blaine, and he loves every second. 

“Blaine!” 

“Arthur! Hi, good to see you again.” Though he releases Kurt to shake Arthur's hand, he quickly holds him tight around the waist again as soon as he's able. “You remember Kurt, right? He came with me to Cats opening.” 

“Of course!” He shakes Kurt's hand warmly, then looks at Blaine with a wink. “Second date, eh?” 

“Bit more than that. He's moved in.” 

“Oh! Wonderful!” Arthur claps his hands together in delight. “You've tamed Anderson, young man. How brave. How noble.” 

“It's not an easy task,” Kurt teases. “But I'm enjoying it.” 

“Lovely. Come, meet Harry, my nephew. What did you make of his directorial debut, huh? Wasn't he great?” 

Harry turns around, flashing a smile as he's introduced to Kurt. He brightens considerably when he then meets Blaine and his uncle explains who he is. “Mr Anderson. I hope you enjoyed the show.” 

“Not my thing. Some good moments, but not outstanding. If I were you, I'd shorten the run, workshop it again then take it out on tour. It could do well; parents are more likely to take their kids to a regional show than travel to Broadway.” 

“Uh...” 

“I liked it,” Kurt says, nudging Blaine in the ribs. “Ignore him.” 

“He can't ignore me,” Blaine says smugly. “I'm writing the review.” 

“Actually, I think you have a valid point,” Arthur booms, patting Blaine on the back. “Harry, I'll talk to you about it at some point. Good to see you, Blaine. You too, Kurt. Glad you're so happy. Love to the parents.” 

Left alone again, Blaine grabs two glasses of champagne and hands one to Kurt, raising his own in a toast. “To the most beautiful man here tonight.” 

“You are so rude.” 

“That was a compliment!” 

“Not to me, to that poor guy! This is the biggest night of his life, and you just took the wind right out of his sails.” 

“Then he shouldn't ask my opinion, because I'm going to give it.” 

“I noticed.” 

Blaine grins. He leans close, kissing him right on the lips. “God, I'm crazy for you,” he whispers. “I mean it, Kurt. You're the most beautiful guy here and I'm so proud that I get to go home with you each and every night.” 

Kurt stares deep into his eyes, unable to voice the happiness he feels at hearing those words. Instead, he brings his hand to the back of his neck and kisses him again, slowly, tantalisingly, and when he pulls back he smiles softly. “I'm looking forward to home time too.” 

“Oh my...” 

“Blaine?” 

They part reluctantly and Kurt turns to see a large but short lady, dressed head to toe in red, including her glasses and hair, holding her arms out. “Oh my word, Blaine Anderson!” she cries. 

Blaine certainly seems pleased to see her, if the warm embrace and kiss on the cheek is anything to go by. “Sally!” He holds her at arm's length and smiles. “It’s been so long! Goodness. How are you?”

“I am well, young man. Very well. But you, my dear boy... You! I thought it was you but then I reasoned it couldn't be, since this man is so loved up and happy!” 

“Ah.” He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed, and then takes Kurt’s hand, pulling him forward. “Sally, this is Kurt Hummel. And yes, loved up would be right. We’ve just moved in together. Kurt, meet Sally Jones. We worked together in London and then Paris, where Sally still lives with her husband, Roger.”

“Oh my goodness but you’re adorable!” Sally doesn’t shake the hand Kurt offers, but hugs him instead, kissing both his cheeks. “But also insane, I fear, living with this grump?”

“Ha! Well, he’s quite a softie underneath,” he says, beaming. “Unless he’s reviewing the show you’re in.”

“Oh, you’ve been on the receiving end, have you? Yes, he’s cruel. But good. Damn good.”

“What brings you to Broadway, Sally?” Blaine asks, handing them all yet another drink. 

“Well, darling boy, I’m branching out. After all these years, I’ve finally decided to get my play staged.”

“Really? The one I read at least fifteen years ago?”

“Yes, and don't be rude otherwise I won’t tell you anymore about it. I’d like to direct it, but Roger says I’m mad, so we’re thinking of doing it together, and we thought it might be nice to come stateside for a while. We haven’t worked here since eighty three, before we had the kids.”

“Wow. So you’re scouting venues, producers? Is Roger with you?”

“That I am, and no, he’s not. He flies in the day after tomorrow. He’s a set designer,” she explains to Kurt. “And he’s working right now. Blaine, have you really, truly landed this gorgeous young man?”

“Yes I have,” he says, grinning at Kurt. “He’s amazing.”

“He must be, to make you smile like that. Are you going to introduce him to the parents?”

“I already did.”

“Okay. Enough said, I feel,” Sally says, looking between the pair of them. “I’m sorry, Blaine.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says quietly, then he smiles brightly, grabs more champagne, and raises his glass. “To you, and your new play.” 

Kurt instantly adores Sally. It’s obvious that she’s the closest Blaine has to a true friend, and it appears that during their time working together, he told her all about his issues with his parents and brother. She is bright, funny, and not afraid to put Blaine exactly in his place. She tells Kurt more about her play; a musical focused on two sisters separated at birth, and raised in very different circumstances. Kurt finds himself fascinated with the storyline, and able to offer some insight into the close bond siblings can share. He finds himself talking freely and happily about him and Logan, for the first time since his death. There’s no sadness or despair, only total joy as he recounts all the times they’d helped each other out. 

Blaine doesn’t introduce him to anyone else that night, but Kurt doesn’t care. He finds he wants to be in Sally’s company, to hear about her children and her brand new grandson, only two weeks old. He is completely captivated and as a result, neither him nor Blaine notice how much they’ve had to drink, until Sally bids them both goodnight, with promises to keep in touch, and Blaine stands ready to take Kurt home. 

“Woah!” He reels slightly, and gives a hard shake of his head. “Okay then.” 

“Blaine?” 

He blinks, and seems to stare off into the distance. “I'm drunk,” he says in amazement. “Like really giddy drunk.” 

“Ha!” Kurt stands, totally ready to tease him endlessly, but he can't. The room is spinning and he finds himself clutching Blaine's arm for support. “Uh-oh.” 

“Do you wanna summon Roy?” 

“Ooh.” Kurt's face lights up. “Yes please.” He grabs his phone, tells it to send Roy and that they want to go home, and then they head outside. The evening is warm, but the air is still cooler than it was in the bar and they feel a little steadier as they wait. “I like Sally.” 

“She's great,” Blaine agrees, holding Kurt close. “It's just a shame her play is an all female cast, otherwise I'd push her to audition you. But still. Maybe when Roger arrives we could all go out to dinner?” 

“I'd like that. Know what else I like?” 

“Me?” 

“Got it in one.” He grins, sliding his hands up under Blaine's suit jacket. “You know, now you dress like a normal person most of the time, when you wear a suit, it makes you look even hotter.” 

“Normal person.” He rolls his eyes, then takes his glasses from his pocket and puts them on.

“Oh fuck.” 

“Are you a horny drunk, Kurt?” 

“You are...” He breaks off, playfully hitting Blaine until he captures his wrists, pins them behind his back, and kisses him. “I hate you,” Kurt says, and sticks his tongue out for good measure. “Hey, where's Roy?” 

“Dunno. Send for him again.” 

“Roy!” Kurt bellows into his phone. “Roy! Come pick us up!” 

“Oh wow. You're really drunk,” Blaine says, taking his phone. “You have to instruct your phone to text Roy, and I don't think your phone is called Roy, is it?” 

“Oh. No it's not. Liza Minnelli.” 

“What?” Blaine stares, rolling his eyes when he realizes Kurt is entirely serious. “Fine. Liza Minnelli, tell Roy to pick us up, please.” He hands the phone back. “You're insane.” But he's grinning, and Kurt is giggling uncontrollably. 

“Blaine?” he says when he's calmed down a little. “Take your glasses off, so I can make out with you really hard.” 

Blaine looks up and down the street, busy with people heading home after a night out. “Here?” 

“Right here.” 

Blaine stumbles under the force of Kurt’s embrace, but he catches him and then pins him up against the side of the bar, both of them overcome with drunken lust. It's messy, it's giggly, but it's hot, and Roy has to shout several times when he pulls up, before they finally take notice and stagger to the car, still locked together. 

They make out the entire ride home, giving no thought to Roy, who is subjected to endless moans of pleasure, and “yes, there,” and “I'm going to take you the second we get through the door.” They keep at it in the elevator too, both of them now devoid of ties and with several shirt buttons undone. When they finally make it into the apartment, Blaine does indeed take Kurt right there and then, against the wall in the hallway. 

Their clothes stay on the hall floor, exactly where they’ve left them, and they wearily fall into bed, wrapped up in one another and blissfully happy after a perfect evening. 

Kurt wakes to the sound of the phone. Blaine is absent from the bed, though that is nothing new, so he pulls on his briefs and staggers across the room to answer it, a sharp pain in his head making itself known. “Yes?” 

“Mr Hummel? It's the concierge. I have Mr Anderson here. He wants to know if he can come up.” 

“What? Why? He has a key.” 

“No, sir, he doesn't.” 

“Ugh, idiot. He's probably hungover. Send him up.” 

Falling back on the bed, he makes the most of the precious few moments before the knock comes and he stamps his way into the hall. “You're a fool, Blaine Anderson,” he says, stepping over their abandoned clothes. “But I love you.” He pulls open the door, and then his face drops. 

“Hey Kurt.” Cooper smiles hesitantly, then politely averts his eyes away from him standing there in his underwear. “Is Blaine home? I need to talk with him about dad.”


	19. Chapter 19

Kurt stares at Cooper, his hungover brain trying to catch up, and then he springs to life. “Uh...come in, come in. I'll just...” He scrambles around, picking up the clothes from the floor. “We were... We went out last night,” he says, his face on fire. He holds the clothes tight to his chest. “Two minutes,” he adds, seizing Blaine’s briefs from the hall table, then he charges down to the bedroom, throwing the clothes on the floor and grabbing a robe from the bathroom. 

“Is Blaine home?” Cooper repeats when he returns. His manner is cool, unfriendly, and he clearly disapproves of Kurt’s disheveled state. 

“I have no idea. Probably. In the gym, knowing him. Is his dad...?” 

“He leaves you here alone?” 

“I live here,” Kurt says, doing a double take at his apparent rudeness. 

Cooper smirks. “I see.” 

For a moment, Kurt is almost apologetic, but then he stops himself. If being with Blaine has taught him anything, it's never to care what other people’s opinions are. They're happy, so why should his moving in be of any consequence to his brother? “I'm not after his money,” Kurt says, fixing him with a glare. “Whatever you might think. But anyway, come into the living room, while I try and find him.”

He shows Cooper down the hallway, purposely deciding to be over polite and accommodating, just to annoy him. He offers him coffee, he even offers him breakfast and of course, Cooper declines it all. 

“Morning, beautiful.” 

Blaine suddenly arrives, sweaty from the gym and in just a pair of gym shorts. He doesn't see his brother at first, and he strides confidently into the living room, smacking Kurt’s ass as he passes, then he pulls up short. 

“Oh. He died, then?” 

“No,” Cooper says, getting to his feet. “Not yet. But it's imminent. I wondered if you wanted to see him?” 

“Has he asked for me?” 

“No. He can't talk.” 

“Has mom asked for me?” 

Cooper looks down at his feet. “No.” 

“Then no thanks,” Blaine says brightly. “I'm good.” 

“Blaine!” Kurt calls after him, but he disappears through the dining room and into the kitchen. 

“It'll always be on your conscience, Blaine,” Cooper says loudly. “If you don't make amends before he dies.” 

“Excuse me?” Blaine returns, his face thunderous. “If I don't make amends? Me? Let's rewind a little here, Cooper. Mom and dad cut me out when I was nineteen. They made it abundantly clear that I would not be welcome in your family if I chose to be gay. They made no effort to ever understand that I didn't choose this anymore than you chose to be straight. Do you remember when I showed up at thanksgiving that year? Because I sure as hell do. I remember dad telling me to my face that I wasn't wanted, and I remember the way you all watched as Denise, the same housekeeper who had practically raised me, was forced to escort me out of the house. I remember the tears in her eyes, and I remember going back to my dorms and being the only one there. I remember bumping into Tracy, from high school, and she asked me whether my adorable niece had made me want kids of my own. I didn't even know Tammy was pregnant, and Lucy was already six months old. How about when you and dad ignored me at that Giants game, when we were in the same fucking box. Remember that one, Cooper? Or when my appendix burst, and the hospital called dad as my next of kin. You might not even know about that, because no one visited me at all. Not one single person. I nearly died, and no one cared, so don't fucking preach at me about needing to make amends because I really don't think I do, do you?” 

“I remember that we were close, as a family, but especially as brothers,” Cooper says, and for the first time, Kurt hears a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“I thought we were, but we couldn’t have been, because if your brother finds it within himself to reveal the biggest burden he’s been carrying around with him for years, you don’t tell him he’s abhorrent. You don’t accuse him of spying on you. You don’t call him a sick pervert. I’m sorry, that dad is dying, Cooper, but I’m not going to visit him just so you can feel better about the whole thing by saying you tried to reconcile us. The way they, and you, treated Kurt at that dinner was way out of line and I don’t want anyone in my life who doesn’t accept me, and the man I love, for who and what we are.” 

“Blaine,” Kurt says, laying a caring hand on his arm. “I know you’re angry and I get that, but please try. I lost my brother and...”

“Oh quit with that!” Blaine shouts, tearing at his hair. “Yes, your brother died, but you know what? He loved you. He fought for you, he cared for you and you knew he always had your back. Your family all love each other. You talk with your dad most days, you embrace him, you kiss him, hell, you even watch TV with your head resting on his shoulder. I had all that, too!” He cries, blinking back tears. “I had all of that, and they chose to end it all. Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather forget I ever had a family because memories like that are like ripping open a bleeding wound, and it’s never going to heal. So fuck off, both of you. You can’t order me to see him, you can’t guilt trip me into it, so leave it.” 

He storms off back into the kitchen, where Kurt hears kitchen cupboards being slammed open and shut as he searches around. He’s just about to say something when the sound of glass shattering comes loud and clear, followed by a string of curse words. 

“Wow.”

“He has a temper,” Kurt explains to Cooper. “He takes it out on glasses and plates.”

“At least it’s not on you.” 

“It never would be.”

“He was always so chilled out. He never even used to raise his voice. I wonder what changed?”

“Really?” Kurt snaps. “Did you listen to anything he said? Don’t you realize how deeply you and your parents have damaged him? Blaine is the sweetest, kindest man I know, but you have to strip away layers of hurt and pain to even get a glimpse of that. That’s your doing, that’s your father’s legacy. When I was growing up, I wished we were rich; my dad barely made enough money to feed us and clothe us. But you know what? I know which one of us had the better upbringing, because when I told my dad that I was gay, he kissed me, held me tight and told me he’d known since I was three. I asked him if he was ashamed of me and he wondered why I’d ask such a thing. I never worried. I never felt scared, even in school when I was bullied every damn day. I knew I had a family that loved me. I pity Blaine for never having that, but I pity you, and your parents more, because you’ve missed out on knowing what a truly wonderful man he is.” 

Cooper is silent for a moment, before giving a crisp nod, and lifting his head, he looks Kurt right in the eye. “I think I’d better go.” 

Kurt doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even see him out of the apartment, just waits until he hears the door close and then he goes in search of Blaine, whom he finds sitting on the floor in front of the refrigerator, surrounded by glass. 

“You want to stay with me, and this has to stop,” Kurt says, bending to pick up the pieces. “I know you’re hurting, but smashing stuff up isn’t the answer. Buy a punching bag, for goodness sake. You’ve got enough money.” 

Blaine says nothing, just stares into the distance while Kurt patiently clears everything away. When he’s done, he fills two glasses with water, which he presumes was what Blaine had been trying to do, and hands one to him before he sits up on the island. 

“Where does your family live?” he asks, looking down on him. 

“Westchester,” he says bitterly. “They all fucking live in Westchester. Don’t ever ask me to move out there.” 

“I won’t. Come on then.” 

“What? No,” Blaine says firmly. “Absolutely not. I said all I needed to say.”

“And I know you, Blaine. You’ll put on a front, saying you’re not bothered, and then, when you find out he’s gone, you’ll regret not seeing him for the rest of your days. You won’t say anything, of course,” he says, hopping down off the island and hauling him to his feet. “Because you’re far too stubborn and proud, but it’ll manifest itself in more rudeness and anger, and you’ll keep lashing out. If you want to take that route then fine, but don’t expect me to stick around for it. Now go take a shower, and I’ll make us some breakfast.” 

“I hate you, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine yells as he storms down the hallway. “I really hate you! You think you know me, but you’re way off the mark!” 

“Yeah, tell it to someone who cares,” Kurt says to himself with a smile. 

Forty minutes later, Kurt and Blaine, who is scowling and refusing to speak, leave the apartment. There is a sleek silver Aston Martin parked out front, and Blaine gets in it, immediately firing up the engine driving off the second Kurt closes his door. 

“This is yours?”

“Why do you ask that? I’m not going to just get in another person’s car, am I? One I just happen to have the keys to.”

“Okay, grumpy pants. I just didn’t know you owned this, that’s all.”

“Well, I do.”

It’s an hour’s ride out to Westchester; the traffic is awful and the car isn't suited to trailing along at such a slow pace. When they finally make it out of the city and onto a slightly clearer stretch of road, Blaine drives like a maniac, weaving in and out of the other cars at top speed. 

“So help me Blaine Devon Anderson, I will get out of this car while you’re driving if you carry on like this!” 

At this, Blaine slows, looking over at Kurt with a frown. “How the hell do you know my middle name?”

“It was on a letter on your desk.” 

“You shouldn’t be reading my stuff.” 

“I was bent over, with you behind me. My face was inches away from it for a long period of time! It’s hard not to see.” 

“What’s yours?”

“I’ll tell you if you drop below seventy.”

Blaine obliges, but Kurt purposely waits as long as he can, until he starts gunning the engine again. “Elizabeth.” 

Blaine swerves. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t take his eyes from Kurt’s deadly serious face, and he nearly totals the car completely. “What?”

“Elizabeth.” 

“You have a girl's name?”

“No. It’s my name, so it’s a man’s name.”

“I know that. But Elizabeth is undeniably a female name, Kurt.”

“It was my mom’s name. Dad wanted to honor her in some way.” 

“Wow.”

They pass the rest of the drive in silence, but Blaine keeps looking over to Kurt every now and then, and shaking his head in wonder. Eventually he pulls up at some large gates, but no house is visible. He gives his name only as Mr Anderson; assuming correctly that the man on the other end of the intercom will assume he’s Cooper. 

The driveway is so long and winding that Kurt doesn’t see the house for a good few minutes but when he does, he grips his seat tightly, and stares, open mouthed, at the biggest mansion he has ever seen. “You grew up here? It’s a castle.”

“It’s a prison,” Blaine corrects. “Now let me make this clear. I’ve come here for you, because you think it’s the right thing to do. That’s all. So when I want to leave, we leave, okay? And don’t wander around. You’ll get lost.” 

“How big is it?”

“Nine bedrooms, twelve baths. Gym, sauna, pool, tennis court, basketball court, cinema....and my parents. The joy.” 

When the door is opened, the butler’s eyes widen in total surprise, but he shows them into a fancy sitting room anyway, and coldly asks their names. “You know exactly who I am,” Blaine snaps. “Now go and tell them I’m here.” 

They are summoned quickly, and lead down a series of long hallways until they're at the back corner of the house, where two nurses sit at a desk in front of a set of double doors. “Trust him to have his own fucking hospital set up,” Blaine mutters angrily. “We’re here to see my father.” 

“Go on through, your mother is expecting you.” 

“I'll wait here, Blaine.” 

Blaine turns to Kurt in surprise. “You're not coming in?” 

“I don't really think I should.” 

“Please come,” he whispers. Kurt's heart twists when he sees the pain in his eyes. “Please? I need you.” 

“Sure.” Swallowing down any fears or misgivings, Kurt takes his hand and they enter the large room together. It is indeed set up like a hospital, with all the equipment and machines necessary, plus two nurses talking quietly in the corner. In the middle of the room, Donald Anderson lies small and shrunken on the hospital bed, his wife sitting by his side, watching him. “Blaine.” She barely looks up when he enters, just gives a small nod and goes back to looking at her husband. “And hello again, Kurt.” 

“Hello, Mrs Anderson,” Kurt replies, hoping he can mask his surprise. “Sorry to be seeing you in these circumstances.”

“Can he hear us?” Blaine asks, staring at his dad. 

“The doctor seems to think so,” Mara says. “But he’s in a very deep sleep and he won’t uh...” She breaks for a moment, wiping at her eyes. “He won’t wake again.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Blaine admits as he continues to stare. “Do I tell him goodbye? Do I just pretend like nothing is wrong?”

“I’ll leave you for a moment,” his mom says, entirely avoiding the questions. She closes the door quietly and Blaine takes up the seat she has vacated. 

“It’s like death’s fucking waiting room,” he grumbles. He glances to his dad, then at Kurt, then back to his dad again. Slowly, he reaches out, and takes his hand. “Dad? It’s Blaine. I just...”

And then he loses it. He falls forward, resting his head onto his dad’s chest as he sobs hard. Kurt stands by his side, rubbing small circles on his back as he cries. 

“Dad...” he says again, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to find the words he needs. 

“It’s okay,” Kurt soothes. “He knows, Blaine.”

Blaine cries for the longest time and then, finally, he raises his dad’s hand to his lips, kisses it, and walks from the room without looking back. Kurt follows, relieved to find the hallway is empty apart from the nurses. Blaine carries on walking, right through the house. He doesn’t find anyone to say they are leaving, just unlocks the car and holds Kurt’s door open for him, and that is when they’re stopped. 

“Excuse me!” A young woman, wearing dark jeans and an oversized plaid shirt comes running over from her car, parked on the other side of the circular driveway. Her dark brown hair is in a high ponytail and her eyes are a mesmerizing green. She smiles warmly, but Blaine just glares in return. “I think you’re my uncle.” 

Blaine’s face changes instantly and he seeks Kurt’s hand, grabbing it hard. “Lucy?”

“Yes! I thought it was you. I haven’t seen you since I was nine.”

“No, I know. I came to your party.”

“And then you disappeared.”

“I didn’t want to,” he says sadly. 

She frowns. “But daddy said...” Her eyes find Kurt then, and she realizes they’re holding hands. “Oh! Is this...?”

“This is Kurt, my boyfriend.”

“Oh my god.” She gasps as it hits her. “Is that why we never see you? Grandad says gay people are disgusting, and daddy says it's unnatural. I didn't know... I mean, we were always told you didn't want anything to do with us but.... It’s not your choice, is it?” 

“No,” Blaine says softly. “It’s really not.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Her beautiful eyes fill with tears, and Kurt wishes he could reach out and hold her. “Please know that I’m not...and Brandon, my brother... I mean, we don’t think.... I need to call him,” she says decisively. “I need to call my brother.”

“I think right now you need to go see your grandad,” Kurt gently prompts. 

“But he’s not the man I thought,” she says, clearly in turmoil. “And I guess neither is daddy.”

“He is. They are,” Blaine says firmly. “They might not hold the same views as you, but I’m sure your dad has been good to you.”

“Will I see you though?” Lucy asks as tears roll down her cheeks. “If I go in there? Or do I have to wait another ten years?”

“Your dad knows where I am,” Blaine says stiffly. “If anyone wants me. And I’m really proud of you, just so you know. Studying to be a journalist.”

“Thank you.” She smiles shyly and wipes at her eyes. “Though I don’t think I’ll ever be as outspoken as you.”

“Few people are,” Kurt tells her. 

“I read everything, you know,” she says proudly. “Everything you write.” 

“Good. Well, I’m leaving now,” Blaine says, clearly ending the conversation. “See you again.” 

“Can we not talk?” He asks Kurt as they drive away. “Just for a time. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Kurt rests his hand on his thigh and squeezes softly knowing that for now, it’s enough. 

In fact, Blaine doesn’t speak again until they are long since home, and Kurt is about to go out of the door for his late afternoon shift at work. “I’ll see you later? Or are you out?”

“Not tonight. There’s a new exhibit at the grand but I think I’ll skip it. I’d rather be home with you.”

“Okay.”

“Is it weird that I feel like I’ve gotten closure? Even though he can’t speak to me, and I didn’t say all I needed to say, I feel like that’s it now. I don’t feel like it’s better, and I don’t think less or more of him... I just feel like I’m done, and I can move on.”

“I think that’s perfectly okay.” Kurt takes a moment to decide he will ask Roy to drive him to work instead, meaning he can spend a few extra minutes by Blaine’s side. “I wish you both could have reconciled but honestly? I don’t think that was ever going to happen. I think that even now, with your mom, there’s not going to be any apology forthcoming. You can forgive her, and him, in your own head, if you want to.”

“I think it was Lucy who made me feel okay about it all. Like I need to close the door on all of that, and work on getting to know her, maybe, and Brandon. If they want that, of course.”

“Oh I think she really does,” Kurt agrees. “And she’s an adult now. No one can stop her. You might have a longer way to go with Brandon, since he’s sixteen, but I think in time he will want to see you too. But you know what else I think? I think that Cooper really wants to make this right, he just doesn’t know how.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think so, but thanks,” Blaine says with a sad smile. He pulls Kurt close, and kisses his cheek. “I love you. Thank you for making me go there today.”

“Any time. And Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“My middle name isn't really Elizabeth. I was just messing with you so you’d focus on something else instead of being brooding and angry.” 

“What?” He sits up, his mouth open in shock. “Kurt! I don’t believe you! Of all the underhand... What is it then?”

“I don’t have one.” He shrugs then grins, leaning in close. “But you, my darling Blaine, fell for it.”

“I hate you,” Blaine grouches, but by the time Kurt leaves for work, he’s smiling once again.


	20. Chapter 20

The inevitable phone call comes two days later, at four in the morning. Kurt sits by Blaine’s side as the brief conversation takes place, and then he sets his phone back on the nightstand and sighs. 

“Cooper said mom was with him.”

“That’s good.”

“Funny thing, isn't it, death? One minute you’re there, the next you’re not. I don’t know how I’d cope if that was you.”

“Me neither, but we can’t live our whole lives thinking that way, can we? I don’t suppose my dad thought about that when he married mom, or when they decided to have kids.” 

“True.” Blaine is quiet and still for a moment, staring out into space. “Falling in love is quite a painful business really, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Why, you want to rethink?”

“Nah.” He nudges their shoulders together and smiles. “You’re okay.”

“Good, because I really love having my own dressing room.” 

At this, Blaine smiles and gently guides him back onto the bed. “So shallow,” he whispers, and then he kisses him. 

They make love slowly and sweetly as the sun rises over the city. Nothing is hurried, every touch is gentle and given in love. There’s no burning lust, but there is plenty of longing; their connection deeper and more profound than ever before. When they’re done, they fall into a sleep so deep that neither of them hear the housekeepers arrive, or Cooper being shown into the apartment. 

It is Kurt who wanders down to the kitchen in search of food, drawing up short when he sees Blaine’s brother sitting at the dining table, drinking coffee. 

“Oh.”

“Kurt. Well, at least you’ve got a robe on this time.” 

“I’ll go wake Blaine.”

“How is he?”

“He’s okay, I think. He feels as though he said his goodbye, made his peace, you know? How are you?”

“Much the same, really. Lucy is pretty cut up. For a lot of reasons though, not just dad dying.”

“We met her.”

“I know.”

“Right.” There seems to be nothing left to say, so Kurt hurries back down the hallway to shake Blaine awake. “Your brother is here.”

“Tell him to go away. I want you all over again.” 

“As flattering as that is, no. Go see him.”

“Then can I have you again?”

“No. Then I can have you.”

Blaine is out of bed like a shot, pulling on his own robe and striding into the dining room where, like magic, coffee is now waiting for him and Kurt, along with a plate of pancakes. 

“Hey.”

“Hey Blaine.” Cooper watches as he sits, helps himself to several pancakes, pours syrup all over them and immediately starts to eat. “Still crazy about pancakes, eh?”

“Yep.”

“Remember when I tried to teach you to make them?”

“Yes, because we set the kitchen curtains on fire.”

“Yeah. So...”

“I’m barred from the funeral? Your daughter isn’t allowed to converse with me? Mom never wants to look at me again? What is it this time?”

“None of that, actually. The funeral will be next Wednesday. Mom had already arranged it. The wake is back at the house.”

“If I come, Kurt comes too.”

“Of course.”

Blaine stops eating and looks up, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “And we’re not sitting at the back.”

“I know that. Lucy has to fly back the next day, but I wondered if we could meet for brunch before her flight? She really wants to see you some more, and Brandon is desperate to be introduced.”

“What does your wife think about that?”

“Tammy is fine. More than fine, actually. She would like to know you too. And Kurt, of course.” 

“And you?”

“I want my kids to be happy.”

Blaine smirks. “Fine.”

“The will is being read on Monday. You’ll need to be present.”

“Didn’t he just leave everything to mom?”

“Apparently not, though I don’t think she’ll be left short, do you?”

“I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah.” Cooper sighs and gets to his feet. “See you then.” He squeezes Blaine’s shoulder as he walks past him, the first sign of real physical affection Kurt has seen from him. 

“You two are insane,” he tells Blaine as soon as the door closes. 

“How so?”

“He wants to make up, you want to make up, but both of you sit there with these barriers around you, too stubborn to let your guard fall.”

“Fuck off.”

“See? I’m right. You always curse at me when I’m right.” 

“I hate you.”

“You always say that, too.” He gets to his feet, kissing into his hair. “And I love you.” 

He heads down to the gym of his own volition; though Blaine may be twenty years older, he is in great physical shape, and there’s no way Kurt is going to let his own standards slip. The treadmill tells him he’s run five miles when Blaine arrives, and silently starts on the bike next to him. 

“I’m not going into work today.”

Blaine looks over with a frown. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Kurt.”

“I know that. I just figured it would be nice to spend the day together, that’s all.”

“If you want. Sally wants us all to meet for dinner tonight. Call the girls and ask them if you like.”

“Seriously?”

“Why not?”

“Your dad just died.”

“So?”

“You didn’t tell Sally?”

“Why would I? Life moves on. It’s sad, sure, but there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”

“Yeah, but...”

“Why are you always talking? Like, always? You’re never quiet. You’re running so hard, you’re completely out of breath, but you’re still jabbering on at me.” 

“Don’t be a jerk!” Kurt snaps angrily. “If you’re hurting then tell me. Don’t be mean to try and cover up the fact that you need comfort and reassurance. If you’re going to get at me just because I’m daring to talk then take it somewhere else, because I don’t want to hear it.”

Blaine goes back to cycling, and brooding, while Kurt patiently waits. Sure enough, after another twenty minutes, he slows down and then stops, climbing up on the treadmill behind Kurt. “I’m sorry.”

“Ew! You’re all sweaty!” He stops the machine and turns to face him. He doesn’t look much better himself; red in the face with his wet hair plastered to his forehead, but he drapes his arms over Blaine’s shoulders and kisses him. “Thank you for apologizing.”

“I feel weird. Sad, but relieved, and...empty, I think. But also like I just don’t want to think about it for a while. Is that normal?”

“There isn’t a normal way to deal with grief,” Kurt says gently. “It’s a very personal thing. If you feel like going out with Sally tonight, then do it. If you want to curl up and cry, that’s fine too. Just know that I am here for you, always.”

“Thank you.” He sighs, and buries his face into the crook of Kurt’s neck. “You do talk a lot though.” 

“I know I do. You love it.”

“It drives me insane.”

“Exactly.” 

They might be sweaty and exhausted, but when they start kissing it’s only moments before Kurt finds his training shorts around his ankles, and Blaine sinks to his knees. He doesn’t even attempt to stop him. While he’s always enjoyed sex, Kurt has never craved the touch of anyone in quite the same way as he does with Blaine. He holds his head tightly driving back and forth, until he releases into the warm heat of his mouth and falls back weakly against the bars of the treadmill. 

“Damn.” He pulls Blaine to his feet and into a dirty kiss.

“I do love you, Kurt,” Blaine says when they part. “Completely.”

“I know you do. I wouldn’t be here if I thought you didn’t. Shower?”

“Yes, but then I want you to do something for me. Call your agent.”

“Tomorrow I will, I promise,” Kurt says as they head upstairs. “Today belongs to you.” 

Blaine is restless, at a loss for what to do, how to fill the time without his mind wandering to where it does not want to go. In the end, after he finds himself unable to focus on TV or music, he suggests they take a trip to a new gallery in Greenwich Village. But that doesn’t satisfy him either, and so Kurt suggests a walk. 

“A walk where?”

“Just around town. It’s a beautiful day. We could do the highline, a couple of parks, maybe?”

They walk for hours. Blaine steadily relaxes as Kurt points more and more things out. They stop for lunch, and then coffee, and then ice cream, covering miles and miles of Manhattan, finally taking the Staten Island Ferry just because Blaine’s never been on it, and then deciding they’re too tired to walk back. 

It takes a lot of convincing, but in the end Kurt pulls a very reluctant and moody Blaine onto the subway, arguing that it will take too long for Roy to get to them. It’s crowded with commuters, meaning Kurt needs no excuse to wrap his arms around Blaine’s waist, kissing just above the collar of his shirt. 

“You smell amazing.”

“I smell of subway.”

“No you don’t. You smell good. A bit sweaty.”

“Gross!”

“I like it.”

Blaine finally looks him in the eye, holding his gaze for the longest time. “You can’t be horny again,” he says eventually. “You’ve had two orgasms today already.”

He is not quiet, and it’s obvious those closest to them have heard; one lady hides her snigger behind a magazine, two young guys laugh and look out of the window, and one man abruptly pushes through the other passengers to move to the other end of the carriage. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Kurt growls, deliberately standing on his toes. 

“Yeah, you are if you keep demanding sex. I’m too old. Save it for later.”

Kurt has no comeback. He just laughs, holds his boyfriend that little bit tighter, and says that he hates him, before they kiss sweetly in the stuffy confines of the carriage. 

Kurt knows just how much comfort Blaine gets from being by his side that day. He knows, because Blaine gets more and more witty as the day goes on and he relaxes. In between throwing out insults which he knows will make Kurt laugh, he also pulls him close, whispers how much he loves him, and kisses him as often as he can. They dress for dinner separately; Kurt is busy on the phone to his dad, so Blaine waits in the living room, surprisingly patiently. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Kurt says as he walks down the hallway. “Dad was worrying. You know what he’s like. He asked if we wanted to fly up after the funeral for a little break? I was thinking...” He stops dead when he sees Blaine sitting there, pristine in a navy suit, wearing his glasses. “Bastard.”

“I only put them on because I know it gets to you. I’m going to wear them all night.”

“See? This is why I hate you.” Hiding his smile, Kurt tugs on the bottom of his own jacket, twisting to see himself in the mirror. The suit is new; before meeting Blaine he owned one suit total, now he’s lost count. This one is a dark green plaid and he’s teamed it with a white shirt and dark grey cravat. It’s bold, different, and Kurt loves it, but he’s still unsure if he can carry it off. “Do I look okay?”

“You look divine.” Blaine goes to him, sliding his hands to his waist. “I love it when you wear a cravat,” he says, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Because when we get home tonight, I’m going to take it off, and kiss your skin underneath. And now that I’ve said that? You’re going to sit there all night looking at me, in my glasses, waiting for that to happen.”

“Why don’t we just not go? I could call Anna and tell her we’re both sick?”

Blaine laughs. “No you could not. Aside from the fact that she would see right through it, I want to see Sally and Roger, anyway.” 

But Blaine is right. Kurt stares at him for a lot of the evening, completely entranced. He keeps one hand on his thigh, under the table, moving it as high as Blaine will let him before he takes it and places it back on his knee once more. 

Sally is once again joyful and invigorating company, and so is her husband, Roger. Anna and Meredith adore her too, and she talks with both of them for a long time about their respective careers and then turns her attention to Kurt and Blaine. 

“Look at you two. So adorable. Blaine, I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much.” 

“Well, Kurt makes me incredibly happy,” he says as he gazes at him, and it's said with such heartfelt sincerity that Kurt has to try and keep his tears at bay. “I was perfectly accepting of the fact that I'd always be alone, but Kurt just makes everything brighter, better.” 

“I'm going to ask, because I'm nosy as hell. Kurt, what do your parents make of this relationship? I mean, there's a fair gap between you, isn't there?” 

“Twenty years exactly,” Kurt tells her. “We have the same birthday. My dad was shocked; even more so when he met him, but then we started again, and they met properly, and now he's on board. They're more alike than either of them would care to admit, and they both care about each other more than they'd ever say, too.” 

“And your parents know, is that right, Blaine?” 

“They know,” he says evenly. “But they disapprove of everything. My brother seems to quite like Kurt, I think, but he still doesn't like the fact that I'm gay.” 

“So sad,” Sally sighs. “If we had a son as wonderful as you, and he found happiness like you have, we'd shout it from the rooftops whatever orientation he was.” 

“My dad died this morning.” 

There is a loud crash as Roger drops his fork, and Sally’s mouth hangs open. “My darling.” 

“It's fine. I saw him, said my goodbye. Well, I said it in my head.” 

“I wish you could have reconciled,” Sally says sadly. “Maybe your mom will come around now?” 

“I don't think so.” Blaine drains the rest of his wine in one gulp, then flashes a smile. “Excuse me a moment.” 

“Oh dear.” 

“I think I'd better...” Kurt starts, but Meredith gets to her feet, kissing his cheek as she passes. 

“I'll go.” 

“He’ll be in the men's room.” 

“No matter.” 

“He might be crying.” 

“So? You blub all the time. I got this.” 

“That wasn't what I meant,” Kurt tells Anna. He frowns, biting his lip. “He rarely cries in front of me. He’ll have a fit if she walks in there and not me. I should...” 

“No, you shouldn't,” Anna says, moving across to sit next to him. “They're very alike, and her bluntness suits his manner. You're coping with all this on your own, Kurt, and sometimes you need someone to lighten the load. We love you both, so let us help. It's no matter if Blaine talks with her and not you for a moment. It's okay if you sit with us here, and tell us how you're feeling. All couples need that from time to time.” 

“I'm worried about him,” Kurt admits. “Because I know he was hoping, as much as I was, that his dad would be awake when we visited, or that his mom would say something, but there was nothing. As for his brother, well, I think they both want to make it right, but they don't know how. Blaine shouldn't apologize, but should he just let bygones be bygones? I think there's been too many years of hurt for him to just forget all about it, but I don't think Cooper will ever outright say that he's sorry. His daughter seems super eager to know Blaine though; she's studying journalism and apparently reads all his stuff.” 

“He is a well respected critic,” Sally agrees. “Maybe this girl is the key to him and his brother getting back on track? Start with her, and maybe if the brother sees that relationship building he’ll be more inclined to be accepting.” 

“Maybe. I hope so, because it upsets me. For Blaine, I mean. Because I know how amazing it can be to have a brother. Even now, with Anna and Meredith, I feel like I'm as close to them as if we were siblings. Friendships can easily be as deep of a bond, but Blaine doesn't have that with anyone. When he told you he thought he'd be alone, that's exactly what he was. Completely alone.” 

“He's getting more sociable though,” Anna points out. “He didn't want to know us at all at first, and I don't think he ever thought he'd be sitting down to dinner with five people he cares about. It was all work before, until he met you.” 

Blaine returns then, scowling at everyone while Meredith trots behind, grinning. “She's horrible,” he groans to Kurt. “She's worse than you, and that's saying something.” 

“Oh get over yourself,” Meredith says, smacking the back of his head as she passes. “Let's order dessert.” 

Sally is noticeably quieter during dessert. Noticeably to Kurt, anyhow, who mentions it to Blaine on their way home. “Do you think she was okay?” 

“I expect so. But you three started talking about when Logan was dating Anna and all was lost.” 

“Sorry.” 

“No, don't be. I enjoyed listening to the stories and I expect Sally and Roger did too. It was a good evening.” 

“What did Meredith say to you?” 

“That I should've gone in the ladies room because it was nicer.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Lots of stuff. I might tell you one day, but for now, let's just say it was brutal, but good to have a wake up call.” 

“Okay. Are we going home now, or to a bar?” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“Home,” Kurt says quickly. Grabbing his tie, he pulls Blaine close, kissing him lovingly. “I just want to be in your arms.” 

Both sleep deeply that night, and when Blaine's phone rings just before nine, it takes them a long time to notice. Eventually, Blaine comes to, and snatches it up.

“What?...Yeah.” He nudges Kurt, who grunts, then nudges him again. “It's for you.” 

Bemused, Kurt sits, wondering who in the world is calling him on Blaine's phone. “Hello?” 

“Kurt, it's Sally. I want to thank you for your company last night.” 

“Oh. Uh...you're welcome.” He glances at Blaine, who shrugs, and signals that he's going to get coffee. 

“I'm going to come right out with it,” she carries on. “I love listening to you talk about your family. I love watching you with Blaine and I adored meeting your friends.” 

“Right... Um... Good.” 

“I've been reviewing my script, and while I still want to keep elements of the plot, I also want to make some changes, starting with making it a brother and two sisters who are separated and adopted into different families.” 

“Oh! Right. I mean, I've not read the script so...” 

“No. I know. That's why I'm calling. I want to rewrite it, and I want you, Anna and Meredith to be the siblings. Now before you say anything, I know I've not seen the three of you act. But you are all trained, and Blaine assures me you can all sing and dance. Either way, I've seen the three of you interact, Kurt, I've seen the chemistry and the bond that can't be recreated with three actors who don't know each other. I want you as the focal point for the story. So please, if I rewrite this thing in the next couple of weeks, will you be my lead?”


	21. Chapter 21

“You said yes, right? Tell me you said yes!” 

Kurt gently loosens the death grip Blaine has on the tops of his arms, and looks down at the sheets. “I said...” 

“Kurt!” 

“I said yes on the understanding Meredith and Anna accept...and I really hope they do!” he shouts, grabbing Blaine's hands. “Because I really want to do it and it'll be off-Broadway and it'll be working for someone I really like, and she’ll respect me and...and I really, really want to do it!”

He doesn't get to say anything else, because his phone rings, and Blaine can tell from the deafening yell that the girls have both said yes too. “Tell them to come for breakfast,” Blaine orders, and with arrangements made, Kurt hangs up and falls back on the bed, kicking his feet in the air. 

“I'm going to be on stage with my two best friends every night.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well you're my bestest best friend, that's a given,” he says, grinning. “Wow, Blaine. Just wow.” 

“You know why you got it, right? Because Sally sees in you what I do. She knows you have the depth needed to bring something amazing to the role. I read the original script, and it was really good. Very emotive. She writes with real heart. Now that she's writing with specific people in mind? I think it'll be even better.” He lies down on the bed next to Kurt, and softly caresses his cheek. “I'm so proud of you, Kurt.” 

“Well, thank you for introducing us. Thank you for existing. Thank you for being my really, really, really hot boyfriend too, because I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Blaine kisses him deeply, but there's no time to make out long and hard like Kurt would like to. “Call your dad while I get dressed,” Blaine says, dodging his grabby hands. “If they show up and we’re fucking, I'll never live it down.” 

“Must you be so crude?” 

“Yes!” 

After Burt has shrieked, yelled, cried and generally hollered about how amazing an opportunity this is, Kurt hangs up and goes in search of Blaine, finding him out on the terrace. His face is tilted toward the sun, his eyes closed. He's in tan pants and a white shirt, open at the neck, and Kurt stands for a time, watching him, thinking about how deeply in love he is with the man in front of him. 

“For the love of God, man, sit down.” 

“How did you know I was there?” 

“You breathe like a horse.” 

Kurt sits astride him, but not before kicking his shin. “I do not!”

“I was thinking,” Blaine says without opening his eyes. “If this show does a twelve week run, that'll take us up to Christmas. How about we take that Europe trip then. New Year in Paris?” 

“Sounds amazing,” Kurt agrees happily, but then he quickly frowns. “I think I'm going to have to quit the coffee shop.” 

“You should. I know Karl is a good guy, but the work will be too much with the play as well. Sally is more inclusive than Frank. She will want your input, your full commitment.” 

“Is that okay though, for me to quit? I won't have much money and...” 

“Kurt please.” Blaine opens his eyes and sits a little straighter, holding him close. “I want to share my life with you. All that I have, all that I am. Please let me. For all that I might give you materialistically, you give me back ten times as much, just by loving me, by knowing me, by holding me, and by driving me absolutely insane.” 

Kurt laughs, then ducks his head down onto his shoulder, safe and happy in the comfort of his arms. “Thank you. Look at you, eh? A year ago you wouldn't have dared dress so casual and yet you look incredible. Effortlessly suave.” 

Blaine snorts, and holds Kurt tighter. “I'll take it.” 

“You know what I love? That this side of you is mine completely. No one else gets this.” 

Keeping his eyes closed, Blaine runs his hands over Kurt’s back. “That's because I don't like anyone else.” 

“I know what you look like when you're sleeping, and when you wake up in the morning.” 

“Stalker.” 

“I'm the only one who gets to see you so disheveled,” Kurt carries on happily. “I'm the only one who makes you come undone.” 

“That's true.” 

He leans close, his lips brushing over Blaine’s ear. “I know what you look like when you come.” 

“Oh god, Kurt, what are you trying to do to me?” Blaine opens his eyes and stares at Kurt’s lips before pulling him into a hard kiss. “Damn you. Hearing you say that makes me so horny.” 

Kurt laughs, pleased with himself, and kisses his cheek. “Not now. The girls will be here soon.” 

“Exactly! You're mean, and uncaring.... And I love you.” 

Their breakfast is loud and excitable, but Kurt senses that Blaine is in need of his closeness and reassurance. That's not to say he doesn't join in and interact; he does, and often, but occasionally he drifts off, and Kurt knows he's worrying, brooding, over the reading of his dad's will and the funeral. It's nearing noon by the time Anna and Meredith leave, and after that, Kurt takes himself down to the coffee shop to announce his decision to leave. 

“I'm gutted, but happy,” Karl declares. “Mainly gutted that your honey won't be stopping by anymore.” 

“Oh I'm sure he will. He goes to the office several times a week. I expect he’ll still need coffee.” 

“I hope so. Wow, Kurt. Did you ever think you'd fall for someone like him? After he snapped his fingers at you that time?” 

“No.” He laughs as he thinks back. “He probably still would, if he thought he could get away with it, but he knows I'd throw Splenda at him.” 

“You think he's it for you? He's the one?” 

“Definitely.” He grins, unable to help himself as he's flooded with warmth. “Yeah. It's quite a weird feeling, to know I'll never want anyone else, but he's the one for me alright.” 

When he gets home, Blaine is deep in contemplative thought. Kurt would like him to talk it through, but Blaine is not and never will be, the type to share his innermost thoughts until he wants to, so Kurt sits by his side, gently playing with his hair. 

“I was thinking. Why don't we take off somewhere for a few days?” 

“You have work.” 

“Karl covered my shifts. I'm done.” 

Blaine closes his eyes, leaning back into Kurt's touch. “Where?” 

“I don't know. Wherever you want. We have to be back Monday, but that still gives us three whole days if we go today.” 

“You hate being extravagant with money.” 

“I know, but I think sometimes a little indulgence is okay if it's needed. And I think it is needed, right now, for us. Don't you?” 

“I have a place in the Hamptons.” 

“What?” 

“I haven't been there in a while,” Blaine carries on, as if no big revelation had been made. “I'd have to find out if it's rented out.” 

“Maybe somewhere else then? Anywhere you really want to see?” 

“Seen it all,” Blaine says morosely. “Although...” 

“Yes?” 

“The last time I went to the Bahamas, I remember thinking it'd be nice to share it with someone. It's a bit boring, vacationing on your own.” 

“We can do that,” Kurt says casually, though inside he's screaming with excitement. “Do you have a place there?” 

“No. Just book something. My credit card is in my wallet.” 

“Me? I can...you trust me to choose?” 

“Kurt, I trust you with my life. Of course I trust you to choose a decent place. You're even more of a snob than I am, it's just you don't like to admit it. Now go, book something and let me nap.” 

They're on their way within the hour, and Kurt is still reeling, unable to believe that he's just booked a three day, four night break that cost more than he earned in the entirety of last year. Blaine is quiet for the duration of their flight and transfer but when they arrive, he looks around the secluded, opulent villa, with its own private beach, and he nods his approval, finally smiling. 

“The boy done good.” 

“Thank god for that. I don't think I'd have coped with the fallout. So this place has staff, but I asked them to leave the kitchen stocked so I could cook, too. There's also a pool...” 

“A pool?” 

“Yeah, the bedroom doors open out onto it.” 

“I wanna see.” 

Kurt leads the way, opening the double patio doors out onto a terrace with a large, inviting pool. It might be eight o’clock, but it's still warm, and Blaine instantly pulls his shirt over his head, shucks out of his pants and underwear and dives, totally naked, into the water. “Damn that feels good.” 

“Blaine!” 

“Come on,” he calls, grinning broadly as he treads water. “Come swim with me.” 

“Like that? With no clothes? I have some swimming shorts...” 

“Kurt, there's no one here but us, right?” 

“Yeah, but...” 

“Get in.” 

It's an undeniably liberating feeling, to swim naked together in a pool, with glorious views of the sun setting on the horizon of the sea. The only noise comes from the movement of the water, the sea lapping on the beach beyond, and the birds in the trees. Kurt can almost see the stress leaving Blaine's body as they swim lazy laps of the pool, and they swim for a long time before eventually stopping to look out at the sun in its final few burning moments. 

Leaning on the pool edge, they mirror each other, their chins resting on their folded arms. “I didn't know you like swimming.” 

“I love it. You're good in the water too,” Blaine adds. “Strong. Manly. Grr.” 

“Ha! Yeah, I like to swim. When we’re old we should buy a house with a pool out in the suburbs.” 

“Not Westchester.” 

“No, Blaine, not Westchester.” 

“You'd want to do that? Move out to the ‘burbs?” 

“Yeah I would, I think. I love our place though. I don't know. I never thought my life would end up like this, and now I'm contemplating what it'd be like to have a house in the suburbs?” 

“For the future, maybe, once you've had your time in the spotlight.” Blaine moves behind him in the water, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his neck. “When you woke up this morning, did you think you'd end the day in the Bahamas, and cast as lead in an off Broadway play?” 

“No.” He laughs softly and leans his head back onto his shoulder. “But life with you is nothing if not varied. How are you feeling now?” 

“Better. More relaxed, that's for sure. It's kinda hard to focus on anything else when my hot boyfriend is naked in my arms.” 

“Hmm. You wanna go inside?” 

“No.” Blaine steps from the water, leading Kurt over to a large double sun lounger. “I want to curl up on this with you, and make love as night falls.” 

The remoteness of their location, coupled with their own decision to abandon all technology, means that their three days in the Bahamas is nothing but blissful relaxation. A couple of times, Kurt gently asks Blaine if he wants to talk, but he says he doesn't feel the need to, and Kurt knows he's being totally honest. 

They spend a long time on the beach together, and swimming in the sea. The pool is in use every morning and evening and the weather is so wonderfully warm that Kurt very quickly adapts to wearing either nothing, or just swimming shorts when the staff are around. Their final night sees them relaxing in the pool one last time, watching the huge orange sun as it starts to set. 

“I think this might be my new favorite place,” Blaine muses. He leans back against the side of the pool, pulling Kurt between his legs so he can hook his chin over his shoulder. “What about you?” 

“It's magical, and it's been a wonderful vacation, but it's not my favorite place.” 

“Oh? I'm intrigued. Let me guess.” 

“You never will.” 

“I know where it is,” Blaine says, kissing his neck. “It's under the tree at the bottom of your granny's garden. Where you and Logan used to play.” 

“What the...?” Kurt spins in his arms, his eyes searching deep into Blaine's own. “How did you know that?” 

“Because I know you.” 

Kurt takes his face in his hands, lovingly brushing their lips together. “You do,” he whispers, before kissing him again. He tries to deepen the embrace but Blaine pulls back, rubbing a thumb over his cheek before kissing away the tears that are suddenly falling. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Don't cry.” 

“I'm sorry. I don't even know why!” 

Blaine holds him close, patiently waiting, softly comforting. 

“There's just so much happening, and this, right now, is perfect. I don't want funerals and rehearsals and work and business which keeps us apart.” 

“Hmm, well, the funeral we could do without, but I think we should welcome the rest of it. We both love our work, so we’re lucky. Your rehearsals are for something that's going to be brilliant and you know what? Yes we’ll be busy, but the next time we get to be alone like this? We’re going to appreciate it so much, just like we do now. If it happened all the time, we’d take it for granted and I don't ever want to be complacent about any of my time with you, Kurt. Not ever.” 

Kurt listens, takes it all on board, and agrees with what Blaine is saying, but when they touch down in New York the next morning, he still wishes they could have stayed on, hidden away from everything, particularly the imminent reading of Donald Anderson’s will. Blaine just has time to change into a suit before he's kissing Kurt goodbye again, and promising to come right home after. 

“It won't be long,” he says as he grabs his wallet and phone. “It'll all go to mom.” 

“You must be getting something, since you need to be there.” 

“I doubt it. I think if anything, he will only have mentioned me to stipulate that mom can't leave me anything when she goes. Whatever. Anyway, I'll see you later.” 

But it is late in the evening when Blaine finally returns, his face ashen. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Kurt cries when the front door finally opens. “I've been worried out of my mind! Roy said you told him to come on home without you, he said you were upset. I've tried calling, I wanted to go out looking for you, but I didn't know where to go.... I even tried calling your damn brother, but he said you weren't with him. Don't do that to me ever again, Blaine! I understand sometimes you like to be alone, but all I needed was one call. Or a text!” He stops his rant suddenly when Blaine turns his face toward him. His eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot, and though he smells of whiskey, Kurt can tell it's from crying and not from alcohol. 

Wearily, he pulls the knot of his tie open, unfastens the top two buttons of his shirt, and then kicks off his shoes before he walks slowly into the living room where he sinks into an armchair. 

“Oh Blaine.” Kurt kneels on the floor at his feet, taking his hand. “He disinherited you.” 

“No,” he says, staring at the opposite wall. “No, he left me some money. Quite a bit, actually.” 

“So...” 

“He left me ten million dollars.”

“What the fuck?!”

“Cooper got the same,” he continues in a flat monotone. “Mom got everything else. But the will...the will read like a fucking Oscar acceptance speech. He thanked mom, for being a good wife, a great mother, which is just laughable, and he thanked Cooper for being a son that a dad can be proud of.” 

The bitterness in his voice is evident, and he pulls himself to his feet, pouring two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Kurt. “It went on and on, about how Cooper has demonstrated himself to have true Anderson blood, and he can see the same noble qualities in his grandchildren, and then it got to me.” 

At this, he unfolds a piece of paper, which, as he paces around, Kurt can see contains his own handwritten notes. “To my second child. Hear that, Kurt? He couldn't even call me his son, just a child. A fucking child. To my second child, he says, Blaine Devon Anderson, I leave the sum of ten million dollars. I bequeath this sum to him on the understanding that he does not use the money to fund his sordid lifestyle. Rather, it is my wish for him that he seeks professional help for his problems and uses the money to build a new life for himself away from many of the vulgar temptations he finds himself so unable to resist.” 

He screws the piece of paper up and throws it across the room. “Fuck him!” he yells before downing his whiskey in one gulp. “Fuck him!” 

“Don't you dare throw that glass, Blaine,” Kurt orders sternly, so he slams it onto the coffee table instead, glaring at Kurt before he sets up pacing in front of the window again. 

“He had to have one last dig, didn't he? Even from behind the grave. Bastard. Well you know what? I'm not going to take it. I don't want his money, or anything to do with any of them. I'm not going to his goddamn funeral either. Fuck the fucking lot of them. Get me more whiskey.” 

“Get it yourself if you're going to speak to me like that. It's not my fault your dad’s an asshole.” 

Blaine rakes a hand through his hair then drops his head in despair. “Ugh. No, it's not your fault at all. I'm sorry.” 

“Okay. Just keep it calm please.” He sips his own drink and coughs. 

“Why do you drink it if it always makes you cough?” 

“You gave it to me. And anyway, my head is scrambled. You know what though? I think you should take the money. No one’s going to monitor its use, right? No one is going to check up on whether you've been to conversion therapy, or moved somewhere else, are they? If you stay out of your mom’s way, I really don't think she’ll care.” 

“No, but you heard what he said, right? I can't use it to fund my sordid lifestyle. So say I take the money, and we buy a house. That's funding my lifestyle, because you'll be living there with me. I could buy a couple of new cars, but if you ride in them, is that funding my sordid ways? If I spend it all on fucking groceries, is that funding my sordid, disgusting and dirty life, because I'm eating food to give me energy to stay alive and be with you? I can't help but fund my sordid fucking lifestyle,” he yells loudly, “because this is my life! This is who I am! I'm sordid, and I'm gross, and I'm repulsive and awful...because I love another man, who makes me happy, keeps me safe, who loves me in return and protects me... Why is that wrong? How is it wrong?” 

“It's not! Oh Blaine, come here. Come on.” 

For once, Blaine goes to him, and lets himself be held as he cries hard. “Blaine, listen to me, please.” Guiding him to the couch, he sits opposite him, but he wraps his legs around his waist, keeping him close. Blaine continues to cry, but it slows to a sad trickle of tears as Kurt fixes him with a determined gaze. 

“I think that sometimes, you need to give up. And right now, I think you need to give up hope of ever making anything right as far as your parents are concerned. Not Cooper, we can work on that, but your dad did this deliberately, hoping you'd spend months agonising over it all, and no doubt also hoping it would spell the end for us. It won't. I think you should say a massive fuck you to the pair of them, take the money, and spend it on whatever makes you happy. Make a huge donation to an AIDS charity, just to piss them off. Write a check to the gay church over on seventh. Buy a house, buy a car, put a float in the pride parade but whatever you do, never ever shy away. Be proud of who you are, be proud that we love each other. If you really don't want to use the money, if it makes you feel uneasy, then keep it. If we have a kid, if we have seventeen kids...there's their future. There's college, houses for them, trust funds for their own kids... Use his money, given in spite, and turn it into the most loving and kind gift you can give because I know you Blaine. You are not like him. You have a loving, kind, generous and sweet heart, and I know you and I have the most wonderful life ahead of us. So take the money, bury the heartache, and look to the future.” 

“I can't, Kurt,” he says, holding his head in his hands. “Seventeen kids... I just can't.” 

“You fool.” Kurt leans in, wrapping his arms around him and kissing into his hair. “Okay, that's open for negotiation but the rest of it? Us, the future? That's not up for debate.” 

“No it's not. Definitely not. And you're right,” Blaine says as it dawns on him. “If I use this money to keep us, and our future family, safe and secure, that's the biggest and most satisfying act of revenge I could ever get.” 

“Exactly. And I think you should go to the funeral, say your final goodbye, get the closure you need.” 

“Will you be there with me? Will you hold my hand?” 

“Always.” 

Blaine wipes away the last of his tears and kisses Kurt soundly on the lips. “I love you, Kurt Hummel. I don't know what I did to deserve someone as incredible as you, but I'm so very glad that you barraged your way into my life.” 

“Hey!” He laughs loudly when Blaine pulls him down so they're entwined together on the couch. While he hates the bitter, mean and spiteful way that Donald Anderson tried to defeat his son, he knows from the smile on Blaine's face, that all will work out just fine.


	22. Chapter 22

The morning of the funeral, Kurt hears Blaine leave the bed at four. He lets him go, knowing he will work out hard and then sit in his office, alone, until he feels ready to face the world. 

He emerges when Kurt is having breakfast. Still in his workout clothes, he strides toward the kitchen, ruffling Kurt's hair in greeting as he passes. 

“Good morning,” Kurt calls after him. “Sleep well?” 

“What do you think?” 

Kurt simply rolls his eyes, and pours more coffee while he waits for Blaine to yell at him again. There is no staff today, and it had been Kurt who had given them the day off, knowing that Blaine would not be pleasant to be around. 

“Where the fuck is my food? Where's Carla and Rosa?” 

“They're not here today.” 

“It's a funeral,” he barks, slamming cupboard doors open and closed. “Not a goddamn public holiday.” 

“I'll make you some toast if you want.” 

“No, I do not want.” 

So Kurt sits tight, and reads the paper. He checks Blaine's column, touched to see yet another mention of the imminent Off-Broadway show that he's not allowed to talk about but which he knows will be awesome. It's the second time he's teased his readers about it, driving interest, so that when the show details are released, people will already be waiting to see it. 

“It's so cute that you write about me,” he calls. 

“That's not about you. That's about someone else.” 

“Sure.” 

“I never write about you. You told me not to.” 

“Ha! Whatever. You're gonna review the show though, when it opens, right?” 

“Nope.” 

He strides back into the room, setting a plate of blueberry pancakes on the table. “Yes, I made them, they probably taste awful but just eat them please, feign excitement.” 

“I've already had granola and fruit.” 

“Like I care. Eat them.” 

But Kurt doesn't need to feign excitement. The pancakes are surprisingly good, and though he protests, Blaine is secretly very pleased with himself and his culinary skills. “My brother taught me to make them.” 

“Were you two close, growing up?” 

“Inseparable. I mean, he's six years older, but he never minded me tagging along. Yeah. He was... We were...” He stops abruptly. “I don't want to talk about it anymore.” 

“Okay.” 

“Stop being nice to me.” 

“Fine.” 

“And stop smiling!” 

“I can't help it!” Kurt gives in, laughing loudly. “I think your little temper tantrums are hilarious.” 

“Ugh.” Blaine stands, pushing back his chair angrily. He walks around the other side of the table, leans down, and kisses Kurt over and over until Kurt pulls him down into his lap and opens his mouth wider under his touch. His hands move to the back of his shorts, skimming over the swell of his ass as Blaine trails kisses down his neck. “We need to get ready.” 

“I know we do. But making out with you is something I can never refuse.” 

Momentarily satisfied, Blaine kisses under his jaw, then his cheek. “I love you, Kurt.” 

“Blaine, we need to get dressed!” 

“I’m going to make out with you some more. Just to annoy you.” 

“You annoy me enough just by existing,” Kurt teases. Tapping his thighs, he signals to Blaine to stand. “Come on. Let's get this over and done with and then you can stop being grumpy.” 

“That'll never happen.” 

“True, but at least we can move on.” 

The church is packed, and Blaine immediately reaches for Kurt’s hand, gripping it tightly. People turn their heads to stare at the son who’s been absent for so many years, openly discussing him and of course, who he is with. 

“It’s like being at a fucking republican convention,” Kurt mutters. 

“Did you just curse in a church?” Blaine asks in surprise. 

“Yeah.”

They catch each others eye and laugh, which of course only serves to add even more fuel to the gossip fire. They take their seats and are immediately set upon by an undertaker. “Excuse me sir, Mrs Anderson asked me to let you know there is seating for your...friend...at the back.”

“Oh, he couldn’t make it,” Blaine says, flashing a smug grin. “But thanks.”

“No sir, I mean for this gentleman here.”

Suddenly, Cooper appears. “Kurt will be sitting with the family,” he says, quietly.

“But Mrs Anderson said...”

“I’ll deal with any fallout.” His voice is firm, and very much like his brother’s as his stern gaze follows the man to the back of the church. 

“Thanks,” Blaine begrudgingly mutters before the organ music starts. 

Mrs Anderson doesn’t glance their way as she takes her seat; in fact, she doesn’t acknowledge them after the service either, or when they’re back at the house for the wake. If Blaine is bothered, he doesn’t let it show. 

Cooper comes over to them though, with his wife, plus Lucy and a boy whom Kurt assumes is Brandon. “Blaine, you know Lucy. This is Brandon, and you’ve met Tammy before. And everyone, this is Kurt.”

The boy, tall, awkward, and gangly, suddenly throws his arms around Blaine in a big hug and Blaine just stands there, not sure what to do. 

“Don’t touch me a whole lot,” he complains. “I don’t really...”

“Blaine,” Kurt hisses. “Hug the boy. Hug him.” 

“Oh, fine.” He pats him awkwardly on the shoulders, and then suddenly Lucy is upon him too. “Oh for... I hate hugs.”

But Kurt, and Cooper, can both tell it's an utter lie, because for just a moment, he hugs them both hard, squeezing his eyes shut and when he steps back, he’s blinking hard. 

“I just wanted to say...about the will... Ignore what dad had written.” Cooper clears his throat and stares hard at the floor. “It’s your money, he gave it to you, and you need to spend it on whatever you want. He shouldn’t have said all that stuff.”

Blaine nods, finishes his drink and looks his brother in the eye. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “That means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow for brunch.”

They are silent for most of the journey home, but there doesn’t seem to be anything that needs to be said. After a time, Blaine lets go of Kurt’s hand, and rests his head onto his shoulder, one arm across his waist and there he stays, perfectly content, until the car comes to a stop outside their building. 

“There’s a show on tonight. I wasn’t going to go, but actually, I think I will. It’s been awhile since I’ve reviewed anything. Will you come?”

“Sure.”

“Can I be really old and take a nap right now?”

Kurt smiles, kissing his cheek. “Of course you can.”

“Kurt? Just so you know, I don’t think I’ll see my mom again, really. I don’t think I want to. Maybe if she’s sick...I don’t know. But for now, I think I just want to walk away.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. She doesn’t seem to have anything to say to you anyway. But it might be nice to try a little with Cooper, if you feel able.”

“Yeah.” He gives a nod, pausing as he opens the bedroom door. “I think I can do that.” 

The next morning, Blaine is dressed and ready in his suit. Kurt knows it's a sure sign he’s nervous about the brunch, but it actually goes surprisingly well. Brandon and Lucy drive the conversation, mainly, but that’s okay. Blaine even offers to sort an internship for Lucy at the New York News. The only truly awkward moment comes when Brandon invites Blaine and Kurt to a Giants game with him and Cooper, and Blaine stiffens and says he doesn’t follow football. 

“Why not?” Cooper asks in confusion. “You always did.”

“I don’t anymore.”

“Because you’re gay?”

“No! Because it was the biggest and best thing that you, me and dad shared, and when you cut me out it hurt to even read about a game, much less watch it on TV or in person, that’s why. Being gay isn’t something that happened overnight, Cooper. I was always gay, it’s just that I chose to tell you in the mistaken belief that it’s better to be honest with those you love.”

“I didn’t know,” Cooper says quietly. “About the football, I mean.”

“Whatever. Kurt’s dad likes football. If I ever go to a game again, I’ll go with him.”

“Maybe we could all go?” Kurt asks. He almost cowers under the withering glare both Blaine and Cooper give him, but the happiness on Brandon’s face makes up for it. “Dad visits quite often. I’m sure we can arrange something.” 

“Tell us about your play,” Tammy suggests, mercifully changing the subject. “I’m really intrigued.” 

Everyone parts on good terms, and though Kurt knows it will be him and Tammy who drive Cooper and Blaine to keep in contact, he feels far more hopeful than he ever did, that there will be some kind of relationship between the two. It might not be the devoted closeness they once shared; too much has been said and done to ever reclaim that, but Kurt hopes there can be an understanding and tolerance, at least. 

“I’ve got things to do,” Blaine announces the second they’re back at the apartment. “I’ll be back later.” 

He’s gone before Kurt can question anything further, and, at a loss for anything to do, he takes himself downtown to spend the afternoon with Anna and Meredith. 

“What do you think he’s doing then?” Meredith asks over coffee. “Drinking whiskey in some seedy bar?”

“Working, probably,” Kurt says with a shrug. “But he needs time out to decompress.”

“You just got back from the Bahamas!”

“I know, but he’s had a hard few days and right now he’s shut off and remote. If he needs some time out then I’m down with that. He’ll come around, he always does.” 

And Kurt is not wrong. When he returns that night, the lights are dimmed in the apartment, the large table is set for two, and there’s the smell of something good coming from the kitchen. Kurt walks through quietly and can’t help but smile at the sight of Blaine, his shirtsleeves rolled up, hair mussed, and a streak of flour across his forehead. 

He is working dough on the countertop but he looks up when he becomes aware of Kurt’s presence, and grins. “I think I’ve passed the point of being hopelessly smitten with you and am now firmly in the territory of being completely insanely in love. It's finally made me crazy.” 

“You're doing all this for me? Why?” 

“I just told you. Plus I want to thank you for these last few weeks. You've been...not as annoying as usual.” 

“Ha!” Kurt hops up on the counter to watch him work. “You're really making your own bread?” 

“Hmm, well, I'm trying. We’ll see how it goes. I just wanted to make an effort, you know?” 

“You could have just got caterers in.” 

Blaine throws the dough into a tin and glares at him. “Last time I did that you told me off for being too extravagant.” 

Kurt says nothing, just pops a tomato in his mouth and looks away. 

“Do you remember that night, Kurt?” 

“Yes I do, but I don't want to because it makes me sad. We had a fight.” 

“We always fight.” 

“A proper one. One that counted.” 

“You know, that evening, I was going to tell you that I was in love with you.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah.” Blaine gives a sad smile and puts the bread into the oven. “I had it all planned but it didn't go the way I wanted. Funny, I often plan little moments with you, play it all out in my head, and then it goes in a totally unexpected direction.” 

“Blaine...” 

“That's not a bad thing,” he says quickly. He steps between his legs and looks up at him. “Not at all. Except for when I did finally say it. I wasn't too proud of how that turned out.” 

“Aren't you? I am. You told everyone, loud and proud and I knew there and then that this was it for me.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I mean I'd hoped...but hearing you say you loved me, it just cemented everything. Hey, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“It occurred to me today, when we were with your brother. When you and I first had dinner, you said relationships weren’t for you, but I notice how much you seem to love seeing your brother happy with Tammy. Is that why? Because you thought he deserved happiness but you didn’t? It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with anyone, is it?” 

“That’s way off the mark” Blaine lies. “Alright, wash up, do what you gotta do. This will be about a half hour.” 

Kurt leaves the kitchen, calls his dad, and then Sally to check on the progress of the play, and then he returns to find Blaine more than a little stressed out. “Too many things!” he cries. “I don't know what order to do it all in.” 

“I'll help.” 

Between them they drain pasta, toss salad, slice bread and then finally, pour wine. “A toast,” Blaine declares when they sit at the table. “To being in love.” 

“I'll drink to that. Hey, you wanna hear something?” 

“You'll tell me anyway.” 

“When I spoke with Sally, she mentioned that Frank Fisher had been hounded out of the Chicago theatre scene, after some very ugly rumors surfaced about him.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Apparently the same happened out in LA before that, and also in London.” 

“Wow.” 

“Hmm. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Blaine?” 

Blaine leans back in his chair, looks Kurt right in the eye, and sips his wine. “And if I did?” 

“Blaine! You don't even try and deny it.” 

He shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” 

“Flattery will not work. I'm appalled you could ruin another man’s career out of spite.” 

“Your eyes are all sparkly. I like it when you're feisty.” 

“I'm not listening.” 

“Really, Kurt? Aren't you? I think you are. I think, though you'd deny it, you secretly love that I'll fight to defend your honor and I also know that you'd do exactly the same for me. I need to make damn sure he knows that no one messes with the man I love and gets away with it, because you're mine, and I am yours.” He gets out of his seat and straddles Kurt, holding onto the back of the chair. “Kiss me.” 

Kurt breaks, leaning up and kissing him with a raw hunger and an immediate yearning for more. They haven't been intimate since they were in the Bahamas and now Kurt craves Blaine’s touch, his lips trailing over his body, his hands on his skin. 

“Slow down there,” Blaine laughs when his shirt is pulled fiercely over his body. 

“No. I want you,” Kurt murmurs, his lips dancing across his chest. “Oh god, how I want you. I want you inside of me, I want...” 

He is cut off abruptly when his own t-shirt is roughly pulled over his head and then Blaine claims his lips in a deep, burning kiss. He grinds down hard against him, and when Kurt scrapes his nails the length of his back, he growls low in his throat. He breaks the kiss, moving his lips to Kurt’s neck instead, biting and sucking at his skin as he trails a line down to his chest. 

“Blaine! Don’t you dare leave me with a long line of hickeys!”

“Too late.” He grins, pleased with himself, and stands, pulling Kurt to his feet. He tries to lift him, but Kurt ducks out of his reach and puts an arm around his waist instead. 

“Let me.”

“You’re not carrying me anywhere.”

“I am,” Kurt declares. “I’m taking you to bed.”

“No. I’m carrying you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Then we’ll stay right here,” Blaine says, and tugs Kurt down until he’s lying on the rug. He quickly finishes pulling off his clothes, and then his own, and their heated, intense love making continues. Blaine enters Kurt hard and fast and he’s relentless, driving deep inside of him with a loud, satisfied shout. 

Kurt moans, wrapping his legs around his waist and rising up to meet him. Blaine presses his forehead against his temple, his breathing already harsh in Kurt’s ear. “I love you,” he whispers. “You’re... I just love you so much.” 

Sensing he is overcome with his emotions, Kurt turns his face, and kisses him over and over. They are fused together, moving as one, until suddenly Blaine pulls out, and instructs Kurt to kneel with his arms on the chair. 

“What? Why? I liked that, what we were doing.” 

“So did I, but this is better.” Once again Blaine drives in hard from behind him, and Kurt appreciates the solid weight of him on his lower back, and the feel of his fingers gripping his hips. “Kurt....”

“Go on, Blaine, go on. Feels so good.”

“I can’t see you.”

Kurt turns his head to the side, looking over his shoulder as best he can, but Blaine isn’t satisfied. He stops again, pulling Kurt over to the dining table. Pushing their half-eaten dinner roughly out of the way, he sits Kurt on the edge and encourages him to lie back. “Better.”

“There will be other times, you know,” Kurt moans. “We don’t need to try every position in the Kama Sutra right now.” 

Blaine gives a laugh, pulling Kurt back until his legs are around him. “I know that, but I love looking at you, that’s all.”

“I’ll shut up then,” Kurt says, biting his lip. “Because that’s kinda sweet.”

“You make me complete,” Blaine says as he enters him and picks up his pace once more. “Not just in moments like these, but always. Everything about being with you is so right. So not perfect, which makes it perfect. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

Kurt looks up at him, into his deep brown eyes which seem to burn with love and sincerity. “Yes,” he says, pushing up onto his elbows. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” 

Blaine leans down to kiss him, but their position makes it difficult. The next thing Kurt knows, he’s being pushed up the length of the table and Blaine is climbing onto it himself, with both of them back in the position they started in. “That’s it!” Blaine cries happily. “Yes.” 

Finding Kurt’s lips once more, Blaine goes at a frantic pace, hard, rough, and exactly what both of them want and need. His hand finds Kurt’s cock, wrapping around him, encouraging him to let his orgasm tear through him, which it does. 

Kurt rises up, moaning Blaine’s name as they come together, and Blaine holds him close, almost crushing him as he bites down into his shoulder, stifling a yell. “Kurt...oh God....Kurt.”

Exhausted, he falls onto his back next to Kurt, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close so he can kiss into his hair. “Love you.”

“Hmm. Love you too.” Completely blissed out, Kurt cuddles close, happy and content in the moment. 

“Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

Blaine pushes up onto his elbow, looking down at him. He seems to think for a moment, then he smiles softly, brushes the hair from his forehead, and kisses there. “Can we have dessert now?”


	23. Chapter 23

On the first day of rehearsals for his new production, Kurt is more nervous than he can ever remember. It's his turn to be snappy and unreasonable about everything, and he can't even work out why, since he's now met with Sally and Roger several times socially as well as for work, and the entire cast only consists of him, Meredith and Anna. 

Taking a deep breath, and wiping his slippery palms on his jeans once more, he picks up his bag and walks down the hallway to Blaine's office. “I'm going.” 

Blaine looks up, over the top of his glasses. “I'll drive you.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I'll drive you,” he repeats calmly. “Come on.” 

“I don't want you to drive me,” Kurt complains, but he's already being ambushed out toward the elevator. 

“Fine.” Blaine shrugs, and waits patiently until the doors open and they step out front. “You drive us.” 

“It's... Is that...?” 

“It's yours.” 

Kurt stares at the sleek black Porsche, which seems to shine in the early fall sunlight. It's a beautiful car; elegant and refined, and Kurt loves it immediately, but that doesn't stop him from frowning at Blaine and shaking his head. “I can't.” 

“You told me to spend my money on things that make me happy. You make me happy.”

“I told you to donate to charity.” 

“I've done that. Three charities, in fact, and I'm keeping the rest for our seven hundred future kids, or whatever it is you want, and us. So this is a gift, from me to you, because I'm more proud of you today than you'll ever know.” 

“I haven't even started yet,” Kurt says, wiping at his eyes. “I might be terrible.” 

But Kurt is not terrible; not at all. It's a different process this time around, and one which he quickly comes to love. Each day, Blaine escorts him to rehearsals. Partly this is because he's scared to drive the car on his own but it's also just because they enjoy those precious twenty minutes together. Sometimes he stops and watches the progress on the play, other times he goes into the newspaper offices, or over to the Arts Journal headquarters. Always, he kisses Kurt goodbye, and whispers his love in parting. 

Sally is a collaborative director, much more open to ideas and suggestions than anyone Kurt has ever worked with. It's like being back in college when he would devise group pieces with Anna and Meredith, and all three adore every second. Because of this, Kurt's whole outlook on life is given a boost. If he was happy before, he's triumphant now. He's busy, but he finds time to accompany Blaine to as many opening nights as possible, and they both find time for another trip to Wisconsin, as well as dinner with Cooper and Tammy one evening. 

“You're thriving,” Blaine comments that night when they return home. “Watching you talking with Cooper about the play, it's the most wonderful thing.” 

“I feel like it's my creation too, you know? We've had so much input. Also, working through it, kinda helps me with getting closure about Logan. I've realized that during my time with you, it's got to where I can talk about him easily, and doing this play has only cemented that for me. I still feel sad that he's gone, but I don't feel sad when I look back on our time together.” 

“Good.” Blaine pulls him close, holding him tight. “I'm sure he's watching from somewhere, anyway. I don't think he'd miss the chance to see his little brother become a Broadway star.” 

“Off-Broadway,” Kurt says, but he still grins. “I'm good with that though. I'll get there in time.” 

Two weeks before opening night, Kurt bursts in the door late one afternoon. 

“I'm going to BROADWAY!” he bellows, then tears down to Blaine’s office, and jumps into his lap. “Broadway, Broadway, Broadway!” 

“Woah!” Grabbing his waist, Blaine holds him in place. “What?” 

“Oh, don't act innocent!” 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Blaine says calmly. “Tell me from the beginning.” 

“You know! And I know that you know.” He sits across him, resting his head into the crook of his neck. “And thank you.” 

“Still no idea.” 

“Oh fine.” Kurt pulls back, studying his face carefully, but Blaine does indeed seem entirely confused. “Sally said the show’s been moved, to the Prince. ON BROADWAY!” 

“What?” 

“Yeah. And I thought...because she said an anonymous benefactor had given a massive amount of money to make it happen and I thought....” 

“You thought it was me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It wasn't me.” 

Feeling oddly deflated, Kurt looks down at his hands. “Oh.” 

“Not just me, anyhow.” 

“Huh?” 

“It seems my homophobic brother, while he will protest it to the grave, really quite likes you and approves of us being together. He wanted me to get him tickets for opening night, and he said he was surprised it wasn't playing Broadway. I told him it costs mega bucks to put a show on the great white way and...well...we kinda cooked up a plan.” 

Kurt stares, and stares some more. Then he grins and cries simultaneously, hugging his arms tightly around Blaine's neck. “You've made my dreams come true,” he whispers happily. “Thank you.” 

“Hmm, no, I haven't. You did that all by yourself. Trust me, I wouldn't be throwing my money away on something that wasn't good enough. I think it would have made a transfer anyway, at some point, but it's a seriously good script, and what I've seen of you three, you command the stage and light it up. You did this, Kurt. Your talent, your hard work, your relationship with the girls. I might have put up a little bit of cash, but you were the one who made it happen, not me, not Cooper, not anyone else.” 

“I'm going to Broadway,” he says, totally awestruck. “Broadway! Broadway!”

“Oh, that's gonna get old,” Blaine sighs. He laughs when Kurt hits him. “We should go out for dinner tonight to celebrate, before you're on stage every night.” 

“Sure. Oh, by the way, Sally said we can have all of next weekend off, so I finish Thursday and don't have to be back until Monday for tech rehearsal. I was thinking...if you don't have too much work on, we could go back to the Bahamas? I know you said it's your favorite place.” 

“I'd love to, but I can't.”

“Work?” 

“Yeah. I need to go to LA, actually, to review a couple of big openers that are going on tour.” 

“What? That's even worse. Ugh. Ooh, I could come?” 

“I fly out Wednesday though, and I'm tied up with meetings, shows... You know what? Why don't you visit your dad?” 

“No point,” Kurt says sullenly. “He’ll be flying in with granny the next week anyway, for opening night.” 

“Yes, which will be a really busy weekend. It won't be like your usual shows, Kurt. You're opening on Broadway. There’ll be a press reception afterwards and sure, they can attend, but you won't have loads of time to chat with them. You open on a Friday, you've got two shows Saturday...” 

“I want to come to LA.” 

“Stop pouting,” Blaine warns. “Or at least put those lips to good use while I book you a ticket to Wisconsin.” 

Kurt knows Blaine is right, his free weekend is put to far better use by spending quality time with his dad and granny than by sitting alone in a hotel room waiting for Blaine to grace him with his presence, but he’s still upset on Wednesday morning when Blaine wakes him, already dressed in a sharp burgundy suit, to tell him he’s leaving for the airport.

He catches his own flight the next day, right after morning rehearsals are done. Sally reassures them all that the play is ready, and she doesn’t want it over rehearsed, so they’re all entitled to a guilt-free long weekend. Still, he feels ridiculously nervous for opening night, only eight days away. 

“My boy!” Kurt is grateful for the strong, familiar hug his dad gives on his arrival. It’s not even four in the afternoon when he lands, and he’s grateful for that, too, because he’s already making plans in his head to spend some time at home, then drag his dad out to his favorite diner for dinner. 

“I needed that.”

“Why?” Burt is immediately on full alert, studying his son’s face closely. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“No, nothing. I’m just... I don’t know. Overwhelmed, I guess. I open on Broadway in a week. That’s insane. Plus I miss Blaine.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“Yeah, he got there okay, and had a long but successful meeting, he said.”

“Oh? Who with?”

“I don’t even know. Some fancy publication, knowing him, or an upcoming artist whom nobody’s heard of, who will end up being the next big thing because Blaine says so.” 

“Kinda like he’s done with you?”

Kurt climbs into his dad’s truck. “That’s not what he’s done,” he says stiffly. “He just mentions me sometimes, and the show. That’s all.” 

“He mentions you daily,” Burt says with a smile. “You don’t need to be touchy about it. You’ve made it on your own. He’s just a proud partner, that’s all.” 

“Do you think I rely on him too much?”

“No! Kurt please, forget I said anything.”

“It’s okay. I know he’s given the show a boost by constantly mentioning it. And he invested heavily. I just don’t want people to look at us and think I’m a gold digger, or I’m using him to get further ahead in my career.” 

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“No! I love him, and I’d love him if he was a penniless journalist trying to write for his local newspaper. His wealth, his connections... they’re irrelevant.”

“Do you think Blaine thinks you’re using him?”

“No,” he says firmly. “No, he doesn’t think that at all.”

“Then what the hell does it matter what anyone else thinks? You two are happy with the way things are, so carry on. You’ll prove all the doubters wrong, anyhow, when it’s twenty years on and you’re still going strong.” 

Satisfied, Kurt leans back in his seat. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “We will.” 

The traffic is light given the time of day, and they’re soon out onto the freeway. Kurt drifts off, not quite asleep but not quite awake either, only tuning back in when they pass the exit for Deerfield. 

“Where are we going?”

“To visit granny.”

“Is she sick?”

“No, but she is incredibly nervous about flying to New York next week. Perhaps you can talk with her, put her mind at ease.” 

“Sure, but can I do it tomorrow? I want to go home and call Blaine.”

“Come on, Kurt, I told her we’d stop by. We don’t have to stay for long.”

“Fine.” He shoots a quick text to Blaine, telling him he’ll call later. “Do you think Blaine and I fight too much?”

“Do you think you fight too much?”

“I love fighting with him,” he says with a smile. “I love to make him lose his patience. He’s funny. We don’t fight about big stuff. It’s just loads of little spats. Like now, I tell him I’ll call later, and he says I’m a poor excuse for a boyfriend, so I tell him to screw off, but we both know neither of us mean anything by it.”

“Good. Are you okay today? You seem very contemplative.”

“I miss him.” Kurt sighs. “And I don’t know what that says about me, because we’re only apart for five nights. I’ve never been reliant on a guy, and I wouldn’t have said that I’m reliant on him, but if I feel this melancholy when I’m not around him, what does that say?”

“Hmm, well, it says to me, that you’re ridiculously in love with each other, and I think that’s okay. You’ve not really been apart since you moved in with him, and you were hoping this time could be spent together, so I think that’s why you’re down about it, rather than needing him around. You’re still very much your own person, sunshine. I know that, because Blaine wouldn’t be with someone who’s weak.” 

“That’s true.”

“And those little spats you talk about? That’s what drives you both; the witty conversation, the lively disagreements... He loves it as much as you and I think for him, that’s why he pursued you in the first place.” 

“Yeah. I thought he was just doing it to annoy me.”

“Well....that too, knowing him,” Burt says with a smile. 

Kurt likes being back at his granny’s house. It’s a cold but clear October day, and the sky is turning a brilliant pink when they pull up outside. His granny is waiting on the porch and he hugs her warmly, before walking through to the back of the house where he can look out on the yard. 

“What the... Is that...?” He turns back to his dad, who shrugs, and then he slides the door open and runs outside. “Blaine?”

Blaine stands under the oak tree with his back to the door but he turns, his whole face lighting up with joy to see Kurt bounding down the steps toward him. He holds his arms open and catches Kurt easily, gathering him close and kissing just above his collar, then his cheek and finally, his lips. “Hey.”

“Hey you. This is like, the best surprise,” Kurt says, unable to stop grinning. “I can’t believe it! You got everything done in LA?”

“I didn’t go to LA,” he says quietly. He loosens his hold on Kurt but keeps his hands resting loosely on his waist. “I came to visit your dad.”

“You’re very sly, Mr Anderson!”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He keeps staring at his shoes, and his manner is so remote that Kurt begins to worry. “You came here yesterday?” he asks, a million thoughts flooding his brain. “Dad didn’t say.” 

“No. I needed to talk with him about some stuff, and I didn’t want you to know.”

Kurt swallows hard, and tries to keep his voice even. “Like what? Are you sick? Oh my God you are. You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“No!” He frowns, shaking his head. “Why would I visit your dad to tell him that? I value my life. No, listen, you know when I inherited, you told me to use it to make me happy?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, part of that, for me, is wanting to make you happy, and I know that your family is important to you. I came here because...well, because I wanted to buy your dad and your granny new houses, but they both flatly refused. He’s even more stubborn than I am, did you know that?”

“Yes.”

“Anyway, after a lot of discussion, let’s just say that neither of them need to worry about money.” 

“You wanted to give them money? And dad let you?”

“Eventually. Your dad has worked so hard, Kurt. He’s raised you, shaped you into the amazing man you are, and your granny has patiently cared for you and Logan...I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all.”

“Blaine, that’s.... Thank you,” Kurt says. He kisses him tenderly, smiling when Blaine brushes the tears from his cheeks. “I love you. You’re so thoughtful and caring.”

“I love you too.” Blaine steps back, tugs on the hem of his light gray suit jacket, and then takes Kurt’s hands in his, looking deep into his eyes.

“Blaine? What are you doing?”

“There was another reason I flew out here, why I conspired to get you back to Wisconsin. You remember that night, when Meredith found me in the bathroom? She reminded me how important it was to seize the moment, to live each day for what it’s worth. She also, very bluntly, pointed out how lucky I am that you love me, and even if my own family don’t necessarily accept me, you do. You always do. And I watched you that night, and I just knew. I knew that being your boyfriend wasn’t enough for me anymore. I wanted to be your husband.”

“Oh God.”

“I’ve nearly asked you so many times. In the Bahamas, or that night we went out for Anna’s birthday, or when we were watching the fucking Lion King for the millionth time.” 

“That’s my favorite film.” 

“I know it is. Be quiet. Anyway. The night I cooked... I had it all planned. I'd been out that afternoon and bought the ring, and I was going to ask you over dinner, only then things took a different turn. And then, I nearly asked you during sex, only I figured you’d kill me and then, after....It hit me that I should really ask your dad’s permission first, and I should really make the effort to ask you in your favorite place, since hopefully I’ll only ask this once, and you’ll only be proposed to once, so...” 

He gets down on one knee, under the oak tree, the sky behind him painted with vivid pinks and oranges. From inside his jacket he pulls a ring box, opening it to reveal an elegant band of platinum and diamonds. “Kurt.”

“Hold on. Wait a moment. Let me just....” He wipes at his eyes, sniffs, blinks hard and then looks down at Blaine and smiles. “Okay.”

“Right.”

“Wait!” Closing his eyes, Kurt takes a deep shaking breath, wipes his hands on his pants, and then gives them back to Blaine again. 

“We good?”

“Yeah. Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening! I can’t believe you’re going to propose!”

“I’m seriously questioning it myself right now.”

“Because I’m talking?”

“Yes, Kurt, because you’re always talking.”

“I know! But I’m excited! And I want to remember it all, every second.”

“Kurt!” 

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll shut up.” He lets out a nervous laugh, shakes himself a little bit, then nods. “You may proceed.” 

Looking up, Blaine laughs, his eyes crinkling with happiness. “I love you, with all of my heart. You’re the most irritating brat I’ve ever met and everything about you is perfect and wonderful. There’s no one else I like arguing with more than you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to raise a family with you, I want to be your husband. So, Kurt Hummel... my love...Kurt, will you marry me?”

Kurt blinks, two tears escaping as he looks down upon the man he loves so very, very much. “You really want to marry me?” 

“Yes I do.” 

“But...why? I mean, I don't know if I'm all that nice of a person really. I always feel like I have so little to offer.” 

“Kurt, you're magnificent. Don't you understand that you rescued me? You're working so hard to rebuild my relationship with my brother. You taught me to open up to people, to trust again. Kurt, you make me see the good, not only in other people but also in myself. You taught me to love myself. With you, I'm not afraid, because I know you're there, always loving, supporting me, I know you've got my back. You have given me so, so much, Kurt, and I know you always will.” 

Smiling through his tears, Kurt momentarily bites his lip, and then speaks. “Can we get a puppy?”

“What?”

“After Europe. Can we get a puppy?”

“If we must.”

“And can we get married on our birthday?”

“I hadn’t thought about it but yes, if you like.”

“Can we honeymoon in the Bahamas?”

“Kurt, for the love of God just give me an answer! I’m dying here!”

“Yes.” Kurt sinks to his knees, his arms going around Blaine’s neck. “Yes, Mr Anderson, I’ll marry you. You didn’t even need to ask.”

Blaine seizes him, crashing their lips together. “Yes,” he whispers briefly, then he kisses him again, softer this time. Taking Kurt’s face in his hands, he cradles him, his love and devotion evident. “You said yes.” He brushes their lips together, both of them smiling. “Yes.” 

“I know I said you didn’t need to ask, but I’m glad you did. And the ring...”

“The ring.” Blaine slides it onto his finger, then kisses the back of his hand. “Beautiful.”

“Blaine? I love you. I can’t wait for everything that lies ahead of us but this, right now? This is the most perfect moment I’ve ever experienced in my whole life, and it’s all because of you.” 

Blaine pulls him into a deep kiss, both of them opening their mouths wide. When they part, both breathless and dazed, Blaine keeps a hold of his new fiance, kissing along his jaw. 

“I love you, Kurt. Always.” 

“And I love you too, Blaine, just the very same.”


	24. Epilogue

Review: Woven Threads at the Prince.

Nearly a year ago, someone asked me why I'm so cruel in my reviews. I gave what I thought was a fair answer; I have high standards that are difficult to be met and, due to many reasons, I've been disillusioned with the arts scene for a while. 

That's not to say I don't enjoy it; on the contrary, because of various stresses ‘in real life’ as they say, my job has become my sanctuary, and I love nothing better than attending the latest musical, or art exhibition, or dance performance, and then sharing my views. 

However, what's been lacking for me, in every piece of art I've seen, is that all important depth of emotion and feeling that grabs you, pulls you under and makes you want to totally immerse yourself in the world created before you. That's not to say that shows I've reviewed haven't done that for others; art is subjective and that's the beautiful thing about it but for me, a grumpy writer nearing middle age, it's been hard for me to let go entirely and open my heart to the story being told in front of me. 

It used to happen; art was my escape and I'd sit immersed in a painting, or listening to music, for hours. I'd watch a play and when the lights came up, I'd need to take a moment to figure out where I was, or even who I was. But life brings with it many trials and tribulations and as those mounted for me in real life, it became harder and harder to block real life out and the escape I used to find in art became entirely elusive to me. 

Last night, it returned. Watching Woven Threads at the Prince, I suddenly found myself totally hooked on the events of the play, and completely captivated from beginning to end. The premise is simple, yet effective; three siblings are all cared for separately after losing their parents in a car crash. The youngest child, a girl, is taken in by a rich, childless couple. The middle son goes to a farmer who uses him for cruel, hard labor, and the eldest daughter lives in orphanages for many years before finally being adopted by an abusive woman. All three feel something is missing from their lives, and all three cross paths at various points, without knowing their relationship to one another. By the time that is stumbled upon by Jacob, the son, they are all adults with very different outlooks on life and the show then becomes about the three reconnecting and getting to know one another before tragedy strikes again. 

Under the expert direction of Sally Jones and Roger White, the three part cast, Meredith Ramos, Anna De Luca and Kurt Hummel, all shine. It’s almost maddening to watch three characters so desperately in need of the love, support and reassurance that a sibling could bring, miss countless opportunities to know one another. When that moment finally happens, and your heart begins to soar for them, it is cruelly snatched away and we as an audience are left almost as bereft as the characters on stage. 

Jones and White are collaborative directors and it shows; the love the cast have for this play is evident, their chemistry entirely natural and the emotion they pour into every song and every line of dialogue is real, intense, and profound. 

Before you all cry foul play, yes, I am engaged to Mr. Hummel, and yes, I’ve come to think of Miss Ramos and Miss De Luca as some weird family of mine, but I don’t believe that renders my review biased. On the contrary, I believe it was perhaps harder for me to immerse myself in this story because I know all three so well. It’s hard to think of your fiance as a character who goes from fourteen to thirty over the course of two hours, who lives on a farm in the midwest and longs to marry the girl next door, when you know him as the guy who bakes cookies at ridiculous hours of the day, forgets to charge his phone and who is decidedly not attracted to girls. 

But all three pull this transformation off completely and what is more, the whole show is so compelling from beginning to end, that it not only captures my imagination throughout, but it stays with me long after, too. I know and recognize moments from Mr. Hummel’s childhood played out on that stage. I can pinpoint the emotions he’s drawn on surrounding the sad loss of his brother, and the love he feels for the women he shares the stage with. I also see his love for me. 

Last night, I watched Woven Threads with my brother sitting next to me. This might not seem remarkable to some, but after virtually no contact for twenty five years, we are slowly but surely rebuilding some kind of relationship. It might not ever be as close as we once were, but as Woven Threads reminded me, family is important, and I find myself determined not to let past grievances hold me back. It is largely thanks to my fiance that both my brother and I have realized that though we might be incredibly different, and hold wildly differing views to one another, we are blood, united by an unbreakable bond; the threads of our lives are woven together. 

I predict this show will run and run, and I also predict bright futures for its stars. Perhaps the brightest future belongs to me, though, since next year will see Mr Hummel and I uniting as husbands. I hope, if you are able, you will grab tickets to Woven Threads while you can and, like me, welcome the reminder that love really is what makes the world go around. 

Blaine Anderson.


End file.
